


when the right one comes along

by luciferinasundaysuit



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Caretaking, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferinasundaysuit/pseuds/luciferinasundaysuit
Summary: Corey thought he would like Chase less the more he got to know him. Never meet your heroes and all. That is not happening. Not at all.





	when the right one comes along

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [definestrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/definestrange/pseuds/definestrange) in the [boysofsummer18](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/boysofsummer18) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Chase doesn't date teammates, no matter how much he's wanted Corey and vice versa. But now, he's retiring. Can they even wait until the end of the season? Up to you!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much to Lyssie, Brooke and Melissa for all your help. This fic wouldn't exist without you.
> 
> Title from "When the Right One Comes Along" by Striking Matches.

Corey’s had a crush on Chase Utley since he was 14 years old.

He feels like an idiot about it, so young and stupid. He has a giant crush on his idol, and now his idol is going to be his teammate. If everything goes right. If Corey doesn’t fuck it up. He’s terrified about everything, about playing most of all, obviously, but also about meeting Chase. His plan is to avoid Chase until he finds his footing.

Or, it was, until he obliviously follows Joc and Kiké around the clubhouse like a lost puppy without paying attention to where they’re heading. He should’ve known better than to trust those fuckers.

Now here he stands, face to face with Chase Utley. Or, shoulders to face. Jesus, he’s taller than Chase Utley. His brain’s not prepared to handle this. He’s able to keep his jaw off the floor, but that’s about it.

Chase looks up at him, mouth quirked up at the corners. “You ready, kid?” he asks.

Corey nods, overeager. “I think so. I mean, I am.”

“Good man,” Chase says. He pats Corey on the shoulder and walks away.

Corey can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Chase Utley just touched him. He can hardly believe this is real life.

The second Chase is out of earshot, Joc dissolves into laughter. Corey smacks him on the chest. “Did you two plan this?” he accuses.

Kiké grins. “Of course we planned it.”

Corey smacks him too. “I hate you guys,” he groans.

Joc just keeps laughing. “First, that’s a lie. Second, at least you got that out of the way.”

Corey rolls his eyes, but Joc has a point. He only made like 40 percent of a fool of himself, so he’ll put it in the win column.

 

* * *

 

Corey throws himself into baseball more than he ever has before. He doesn’t want to go back down. He’s ready. He can do this. He focuses during practice, plays as hard as he can, learns everything anyone is willing to teach him. As it turns out, one of the people willing to teach him is Chase.

Chase makes a habit of watching Corey take batting practice, giving him advice, telling him what to fix. During drills, he actually listens to what Corey has to say. When Corey makes a good play or gets a hit, Chase is always there to bump knuckles or mess up his hair. And when Corey fucks up, Chase doesn’t yell at him. He just tells him how to fix it. He’s good to Corey, treats him like he’s worth spending time on. Corey thought he would like him less the more he got to know him. Never meet your heroes and all. That is not happening. Not at all.

Corey’s first season lasts 33 days. They make it to the NLDS, and Corey is elated. It gets ugly, nasty, grueling. Corey loves every second of it. He thinks that if they get past this, they’ll win it all.

They don’t.

 

* * *

 

He expects Chase to forget about him over the offseason. Even after Chase re-signs in December, Corey’s still a rookie. Chase helps all the young guys. Corey knows he’s not special, but when he texts Chase about his workouts, Chase texts back. He encourages Corey, gives him advice.

Spring training starts. Corey can’t sleep the night before for two reasons:  baseball and Chase. One reason, in a way. Chase lets Corey hug him when they see each other. As the days go on, he sits next to Corey at meals sometimes. He gives him pointers. He pushes him. He’s so fucking nice. Even when he’s disappointed and terrifying, he’s kind to Corey.

Corey makes the roster. Chase tells him he knew he would, and Corey walks around smiling for days.

In mid-April, Chase offers to watch tape with him at the hotel. Corey almost dies. He swears he stops breathing for at least ten seconds. But he agrees. He’s an idiot, but not that big of an idiot.

iPad in hand, he knocks on Chase’s door. Chase opens it, and he looks happy to see Corey, which blows Corey’s mind.

“Hey, kid,” Chase says, holding the door open for Corey.

“Hey,” Corey says. He has a death grip on the iPad. His heart pounds against his rib cage.

Corey walks inside. He doesn’t mean to brush against Chase, but he does. Chase doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t jerk away or say anything.

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing to the bed.

Corey does, perching on the edge. Chase sits next to him. He’s too close. He’s too far away. Chase takes the iPad from Corey’s hands.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he says.

He starts a video. Corey pays attention to what Chase is telling him, he does, but he’s also thinking about how close Chase is, how good he smells, how he’s making time to help Corey.

“You getting this, kid?” Chase asks.

“Yeah,” Corey says quickly.

He focuses. He watches Chase’s hands as he gestures. He listens to what Chase says. He learns. The next day, he makes the adjustments Chase pointed out. He doesn’t make the mistakes he made yesterday. He improves. Chase nods approvingly.

“You did good,” he says.

Corey beams. “Thanks.”

“You want to watch your tape again tonight?” Chase asks.

Corey can hardly believe his luck, but he says yes. They make it a regular thing.

 

* * *

 

The team goes out a lot, to restaurants and bars and clubs. Chase always makes time to say hey to Corey, but usually Corey hangs out with the younger guys, and Chase hangs out with the older crowd. It’s July before they wind up pressed together in a booth, Corey sandwiched between Chase and Alex. He’s not quite sure how it happened, but he’s not about to complain. Chase is warm against his side.

Chase knocks into Corey with his shoulder, but gently. “Are you old enough to be drinking that?” he asks, gesturing to Corey’s beer.

Corey laughs. “Just barely,” he says.

“How much have you had?”

Corey shrugs. “Enough.”

Chase looks up at him. “You’re all flushed. You okay, kid?”

Corey bites his lip. Chase watches him, probably trying to figure out how drunk Corey is, which is not a small amount. “I’m okay. This is my last one.”

“Finish it, and I’ll get you back to your room, alright?”

Corey nods. He’s not saying no to that.

He turns his bottle up and basically chugs it while Chase looks on. Corey sets his empty bottle down maybe a little harder than necessary.

“Jesus, Corey,” Chase says. “I didn’t mean —. Nevermind. You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Corey says. He definitely is.

Chase leans over Corey, leans into him a little. Corey tamps down on a groan.

“Woodsy, you good to get back?” Chase asks.

Corey blinks, suddenly remembering that Alex is there. Oops.

“Yeah,” Alex says, “I’m gonna get an Uber with Joc.”

Chase nods. “Be safe.”

He slides out of the booth, then holds a hand out to Corey. Corey takes it, lets Chase pull him up, follows Chase out of the booth and then out of the bar. There’s a car waiting. Chase must have called for it while Corey was drinking his beer. Chase holds the door open.

“Come on, kid,” he says.

Corey folds himself into the car, gangly limbs everywhere. He scoots to the other side, and he manages to buckle his own seatbelt while Chase gets in.

“You still good?” Chase asks.

Corey nods. Chase squeezes his shoulder. Corey lets himself drift. After awhile, he hears Chase say his name. He opens his eyes, blinking sleepily. He’s fallen asleep on Chase’s shoulder, but he can’t find it in him to be embarrassed because Chase’s hand is resting on the back of his neck.

“We’re at the hotel,” Chase says softly.

Corey sits up reluctantly, scrubbing his hand over his face. He’d rather stay here forever.

Corey clumsily unbuckles his seatbelt while Chase walks around to Corey’s side of the car. Chase opens the door and helps Corey out, keeps him from bumping his head.

“Sorry,” Corey mumbles.

Chase leads him into the lobby with a hand on his back. “Why?”

“‘Cause you have to take care of me,” Corey says.

Chase stops them in front of the elevators, presses the button. “It’s fine, kid.”

Corey looks at the floor until the elevator arrives. Chase still has his hand on Corey’s back, and he ushers him in.

Corey presses the button. He’s not too drunk to remember their floor, thankfully.

“Sorry. Again,” he says.

“Corey,” Chase says with a nudge to Corey’s side, “I don’t mind.”

Corey smiles. “Thank you.”

The doors open then, and Corey follows Chase out.

“You remember where your room is?” Chase asks.

Corey nods. It’s not far. Chase lets Corey lead. Corey stops abruptly when they get to his door, and Chase runs into Corey’s back.

“Ah, fuck,” Chase says.

Corey just laughs. He’s able to fish his wallet out of his pocket and get his key, which is good because he might have fainted right there if Chase had to do it. It takes a couple of tries, but Corey swipes the key, and it makes the little whoosh sound. Chase opens the door, and Corey shuffles in. Chase follows him, shutting the door.

“Can you get your shoes and pants off by yourself?” Chase asks.

“Yeah,” Corey says quickly.

He can’t have Chase do it. He just can’t.

Chase nods. “Do you have Tylenol?”

“In my dopp kit in the bathroom,” Corey says.

Chase turns, apparently going to get the Tylenol. “Get your stuff off,” Chase instructs.

Corey half sits, half flops into the bed. He tugs his sneakers off and drops them on the floor, then struggles out of his jeans. He drops them on the floor too. He’s on his back at the end of the bed, staring at the ceiling, when Chase appears beside him.

“I put water and Tylenol on your nightstand. Take them in the morning,” Chase says.

Corey sits up a little. “I will.”

“Let’s get you under the covers,” Chase says.

He holds his hand out to Corey like he did in the bar, and Corey takes it again. He lets Chase pull him up, but Chase pulls harder than Corey expected. Corey stumbles, then collides with Chase’s chest.

“Fuck,” he groans.

Chase wraps his arm around Corey’s waist. “I’ve got you, kid,” he says.

He’s smiling just a little. Corey thinks he looks beautiful.

“I’m too drunk for this,” he groans.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting against Chase’s shoulder. He stays there a beat, maybe two, before he realizes what he’s doing and shoots straight up.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Chase reaches up to ruffle his hair, and Corey’s never, ever going to get used to the fact that he’s taller than Chase Utley.

“It’s fine, Corey. Can you get into bed for me?”

Corey squeezes his eyes shut, takes a few deep breaths. The universe is cruel.

“Yeah,” he says.

He walks around to the head of the bed and gets under the blankets. He looks up at Chase.

“I know I’m acting like a dumb kid. I really am sorry,” he says.

Chase sits down next to him. “You’re not dumb, but you are a kid. It’s okay if you need a little help sometimes.”

Corey looks down at the comforter, not wanting to meet Chase’s eye. “Yeah, but. You shouldn’t have to bother with me.”

“Hey, look at me,” Chase says.

Corey does.

Chase squeezes Corey’s shoulder. “You’re not bothering me. You understand?”

Corey doesn’t, not really. He feels like a nuisance, even if Chase says he isn’t. He nods anyway.

“Good. You’re not a bother, kid,” Chase says. “I have to go now. Time for me to go to bed too.”

Corey makes a face. “Okay. Thank you for getting me back to my room.”

“I told you, I don’t mind,” Chase says. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Corey slumps down against his pillow. He’s tired. “Alright.”

Chase sits there for a few more seconds, then pats the top of Corey’s head. “Bye,” he says.

Corey means to watch him leave, but he’s asleep before the door closes.

 

* * *

 

Corey had mentioned to Chase that he should dye his hair at breakfast one day a couple of months ago, and Chase had laughed, so Corey kept telling him he should.

It became kind of a joke between them.

“What if I do this?”

“No, Corey.”

“What if I do that?”

“No, Corey.”

“Please, Chase?”

“Nice try, but still no.”

He bugged Chase, Chase laughed, and Corey felt good, so he kept on with it. Also, he really fucking wants to see Chase’s hair dark and slicked back like Corey used to think about. He doesn’t think Chase will give in, though. Chase is more sensitive about his age than he lets on, and dying his hair will only bring more attention to the gray once it fades back. Or so he says. Corey thinks the gray is hot, anyway.

Corey gets the idea for the bet maybe 15 minutes before the game. Joc mentions how Corey hit three home runs against Atlanta, and it’s like a cartoon light bulb lights up over Corey’s head. He doubts he can do that again, but maybe, just maybe, he can get two.

He rushes over to Chase and excitedly asks, “Okay, how about this? If I get two home runs tonight, you have to dye your hair.”

Chase rolls his eyes, teasing but good-natured.

“Sure, Corey. Done. Deal,” he says.

Corey blinks, startled by the lack of resistance. Chase must think Corey can’t do it.

“I can get two homers,” Corey insists.

Chase grins. “Prove it.”

So Corey does. He hits a home run in the first inning. As he rounds the bases, his grin is so wide it hurts his cheeks. There’s still plenty of game left. He can do this.

Corey bounds over to Chase, so pleased with himself. Chase leans in as he gives Corey knuckles.

“Alright, kid, let me get involved in the bet. How about if I hit a home run, it cancels out one of yours?”

Corey laughs, delighted. “You think I’m gonna get another one, don’t you?”

Chase grins ruefully. “Yeah, I do.”

Corey shrugs. If Chase really doesn’t want to do this, it’s only right to give him an out. “Sure,” he says.

It’s there in the back of Corey’s mind the whole top of the second. He’s got one, but Chase’s next at bat, he could have none.

Then, Chase gets a homer. Corey’s happy and disappointed and a little turned on all at once. He takes his practice swings, tries to put it out of his head, but he flies out, so maybe he didn’t succeed.

“We’re tied now,” Chase tells him when Corey gets back to the dugout.

Corey bites his lip. “I could still do it.”

Chase nods. “I know. Go try.”

Corey grounds out in the fourth. Chase hasn’t gotten another hit either, so it could still happen, he tells himself. Focus, Corey. Play the damn game.

Chase grounds out in the seventh. Still in it, Corey thinks. Still in it, still in it, as he steps up to the plate. He hits a home run, can tell it’s going to happen almost before it does. He’s losing his mind as he rounds the bases, and he can hear all the other guys whooping and hollering. Joc lifts him up off his feet. Corey feels like he could fly.

“That’s two,” he tells Chase.

Chase messes up his hair. “You did good, Corey,” Chase says approvingly. “It only counts as one, though.”

Corey sighs. He had been so fucking happy, but Chase is right. He might not hit again, probably won’t. As it turns out, he doesn’t.

“Guess you won,” he tells Chase glumly in the clubhouse.

Chase is quiet for a second, then shakes his head. “Nah, kid, you won.”

“But —,” Corey starts.

Chase cuts him off. “I shouldn’t have changed the terms when you were winning. You said two, you got two. I’ll do it.”

Corey bites his lip. “I agreed to the changes. You don’t have to.”

“I’m gonna do it,” Chase says firmly. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Corey throws himself at Chase before he can stop himself. He hugs him tight. “Thank you,” he says.

Chase laughs and hugs him back. “Yeah, well, I have to set a good example. You’re really excited about this.”

“This was the most important game of my life,” Corey says solemnly.

Chase rolls his eyes. “Okay, Corey, I’ll dye my damn hair.”

A week later, Chase’s hair is brown. Corey is so happy he can hardly contain himself. Chase’s hair is _brown._

“You look good,” he tells Chase, trying not to give too much away.

“I look like an idiot,” Chase says flatly.

He lets Corey take a few pictures, but he refuses to smile.

“Thank you,” Corey says.

Chase shakes his head. “I don’t know why this was such a thing for you, but you’re welcome.”

Corey swallows hard. Why, indeed.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so hungover I’m gonna die,” Corey groans into the phone.

Chase laughs. “You’re 22. It’ll only get worse from here.”

Corey lets out a dramatic groan. “Just abandon me to my pain.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, so that’s not going to happen. Put on your shoes,” Chase says.

“When I agreed to breakfast, I was very drunk,” Corey says.

He’s slipping his feet into his sneakers as he speaks.

“I’ll fill you with grease and coffee; you’ll be fine. I’m outside, do you want me to come in?” Chase asks.

Corey looks around his living room. The house is a thousand times better than living in a hotel, but it’s a disaster. Also, Trayce is asleep face-down on the couch. “No, I’ll just come outside. See you in a second.”

“Bye,” Chase says, then hangs up.

Corey shoves his phone in his pocket, makes sure he has his wallet. He puts on his sunglasses and heads out the door. He all but sleepwalks to Chase’s car. “Fuck the sun,” he says pitifully as he climbs inside.

Chase reaches over and ruffles Corey’s hair. “You’ll live, kid.”

Corey flops back against the seat. “You promise?”

“Yes, Corey, I promise your hangover won’t kill you,” Chase says.

Corey grunts. Chase leans over and buckles his seat belt for him.

“You can sleep if you want. I’ll wake you up when we get there,” Chase says.

Corey closes his eyes. “You’re a good person.”

He’s asleep before Chase pulls out of the parking lot. It seems like seconds later when Chase wakes him up with a hand on his shoulder.

“We’re here, Corey,” Chase says softly.

Corey sighs. He almost startles when Chase runs his fingers through his hair, but he manages to stay still. It feels good. He opens his eyes slowly. “Hi,” he says.

Chase grins at him. “Hi.”

The restaurant Chase has driven them to is a diner, fairly nondescript, but it smells great, even standing in the parking lot. Chase holds the door open for Corey. They get seated quickly, and nobody looks at them twice. Corey’s still kind of a zombie, so Chase orders for him, coffee and a bacon cheeseburger with fries.

“I still feel terrible,” Corey says.

Chase grins. “You don’t look terrible.”

Corey smiles back. “You’re too good to me.”

“No, I’m not,” Chase says. He sounds tired.

Corey nudges Chase with the toe of his shoe. Chase nudges him back. When their food comes, Corey inhales his. Chase eats his turkey bacon and eggs at a reasonable pace. By the time Corey’s food is gone, he feels mostly human.

“You cured me,” he says.

Chase rolls his eyes. “I just gave you breakfast.”

The server comes by with the check. Corey reaches for it, but Chase snatches it up.

“Not on your life, kid,” he says.

“I can pay for my food,” Corey insists.

“I know,” Chase says. “But you shouldn’t have to. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you. For breakfast, and for fixing me,” Corey says.

Chase laughs. “Well, we need you. Lot of baseball left to play.”

Corey grins. They clinched last night. They’re going to the NLDS. He has everything in the world to smile about.

 

* * *

 

They make it through the NLDS easily enough, but then they run into the Cubs, hell bent for leather on breaking a 108 year curse. They lose in six at Wrigley. Corey cries. He didn’t last year, but somehow, this hurts more.

He keeps his tears in, just barely, until Chase finds him and drags him to an empty corner.

Chase rests his hands on Corey’s shoulders. “It’s okay to be upset, Corey.”

Corey closes his eyes, lets himself think about how Chase’s hands feel on him. “Is it okay to cry?” he asks quietly.

“If you need to, I won’t tell anyone,” Chase says.

Corey looks Chase in the eye. He looks calm, but Corey knows it’s for him. Corey has so many more chances. Chase doesn’t, and that hurts Corey most of all.

“Can I hug you?” Corey asks, voice small.

Instead of responding, Chase wraps his arms around Corey and pulls him in close. “You’re going to be fine, Corey. You have next year and the next year, and the year after that. You have time.”

Corey can feel tears welling up in his eyes. He curls around Chase, hooking his chin over Chase’s shoulder so his face is hidden. “I wanted to win with you. For you.” His voice breaks. He feels so young.

Chase rubs Corey’s back. “I know, babe. Me too. We don’t know that won’t happen, though. I don’t know anything about next year for sure.”

Hot tears are running down Corey’s face now. He shivers at Chase calling him babe, but he thinks he passes it off as a shudder. “This could be the last time I ever get to play with you.”

Chase brings his hand up to cradle the back of Corey’s head, the other still rubbing soothingly between Corey’s shoulder blades. “I know,” he says again. “It might not be. But I’ll miss you if it is.”

Corey lets out a sob. Chase has no idea how much Corey will miss him, how much Corey cares about him. And he shouldn’t, Corey should never tell him. Chase might hate him, or laugh at him, or. Or a lot of things. Corey tangles his fingers in Chase’s shirt.

“Not as much as I’ll miss you,” Corey whispers.

Chase takes a step back, but he doesn’t let go of Corey. “Look at me,” he says.

Slowly, reluctantly, Corey does.

“Don’t think you’re not important to me, okay? You are,” Chase says firmly.

Corey bites his lip. “I know I’m your pet rookie.”

“Not just that. I care about you, kid,” Chase says.

Corey inhales sharply. He licks his lips, doesn’t say anything.

Chase runs his fingers through Corey’s hair. “You believe me?”

“Yeah,” Corey says, voice thick.

Chase hugs Corey tight. “It’ll be better once you get home.”

Corey nods and leans into Chase. He hopes Chase is right.

 

* * *

 

Corey spends the offseason worrying about where Chase will sign. One holiday after another marches past. The days are a blur of hanging out with his brothers, playing with his nephew and tiny niece, and going where his mom tells him, but that worry is always in the back of his head. Chase keeps texting him to watch out at second base next year. He means it to be funny, but it makes Corey’s chest feel cold and tight. Chase doesn’t have friends on the field. It’s what makes him so good. Corey can’t stand the thought of those gray eyes looking right through him.

The Dodgers acquire Logan Forsythe at second on January 23. That’s it, Corey thinks. Chase is gone. Corey hides in his room for a week. He’ll see Chase again, sure, but never like before. Never when Chase wants to help him and take care of him. Never when Chase treats Corey like he’s special. Corey’s had breakups that hurt less than this.

Chase is stoic and a little scary and makes terrible jokes. Corey has never loved anyone more.

Then, roughly five minutes before spring training by Corey’s estimate, Chase texts him. “Don’t worry about getting out of my way anymore. I’ll see you next week.”

Corey is absolutely elated. He’ll see Chase again, the way they were. He’ll have him for one more year, at least.

 

* * *

 

The first day of spring training, Corey tackle-hugs Chase when he sees him. Chase shakes his head, put upon, but he hugs Corey back. He sits next to Corey at lunch, hangs out with him when everyone goes out that night, then sits with him again the next day at breakfast. Corey feels absolutely spoiled. He’s basking in all the attention when Chase nudges him in the side.

“You wanna come over tonight?” Chase asks. “Tacos and beer?”

Corey just barely keeps from gaping. Chase asks him to hang out, sure, but almost always with a purpose or in a group. Rarely just for the hell of it. Chase rarely does anything for the hell of it. Corey nods, trying not to seem overeager.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d like that.”

Chase smiles, a real one that reaches his eyes. “Good.”

Corey shows up five minutes early. He tried not to, really he did, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“There’s my pet rookie,” Chase says as he lets Chase in.

Corey groans. “Please forget I ever said that. Also, I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Chase laughs. “I guess not. Come on to the kitchen.”

Corey leaves his shoes by the door, then follows him. He looks Chase up and down while his back is turned. Chase is wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. He’s barefoot, and there’s no gel in his hair. Corey bites his lip.

“You hungry?” Chase asks.

“Literally always,” Corey responds.

Chase huffs out a laugh. “Well, we can’t have that.”

He gestures to the takeout boxes on the table. “They’re both the same. Dig in. You want a beer?”

“Please,” Corey says as he sits at the table.

He opens a takeout box, but he waits for Chase. He watches as Chase gets two Blue Moons and twist off the caps. Chase sets one in front of Corey, then sits across from him.

“Eat, kid, come on,” Chase says.

Corey picks up his beer and takes a long pull from it. “Thank you,” he says.

Chase opens up his box and picks up a taco. “No problem. You always eat like nobody’s feeding you, anyhow.”

Corey grabs a taco and takes a big bite. “Fuck, these are good,” he groans. “I always eat a lot. I’m a growing boy.”

“I think you’re done growing,” Chase says.

Corey takes a long swallow from his beer. He doesn’t say anything, raises an eyebrow. Chase groans.

“I walked right into that, huh?” he says.

“Pretty much,” Corey says around a mouthful of food.

Chase throws a piece of lettuce at him. “Behave.”

“Do I have to?” Corey asks.

He takes a sip of his beer. He’s not sure where this confidence is coming from, but he’s going to run with it.

Chase rolls his eyes. “You’re in rare form tonight, kid,” he says, gesturing with beer bottle

“Is that bad?” Corey asks. He doesn’t want to push his luck.

Chase tilts his head like he’s thinking it over. “No,” he says. “You seem happy.”

“I am,” Corey says. He takes a big bite of his food to keep from smiling like an idiot.

“Good,” Chase says. “That’s what I like to see.”

Corey gulps his beer. “I’m glad you came back.”

Chase grins. “Me too.”

They eat quietly for a few minutes. The food is really good, and Corey’s really hungry.

“You want another beer?” Chase asks when Corey finishes his first.

Corey nods. “I can get it.”

Chase is already standing up. “I’ve got you.”

“You’re really nice to me,” Corey says when Chase hands him the bottle.

Chase is _so_ nice to him, all the time. Corey wishes he meant it the way Corey needs him to.

“Well, yeah,” Chase says. He shrugs and opens his own beer.

Corey bites his lip. The way Chase says yeah, like of course he’s nice to Corey, makes him ache. “Why?”

Chase makes a face. “What do you mean, why? I like you, kid, you know that.”

“Yeah,” Corey says quietly.

He knows Chase likes him. Sometimes it’s almost enough, when Corey’s not feeling greedy. Corey eats the last of his food and closes the box.

Chase picks up Corey’s empty box and his own and throws them away. He squeezes Corey’s shoulder on his way back to his seat.

“You okay, Corey?” he asks.

Corey shrugs. The last few months have eaten him up, thinking Chase was gone. He suddenly gets the urge to tell Chase everything. He tries to tamp it down. Danger, danger, he tells himself. Corey looks at Chase across the table, sees him looking back, eyes worried and kind.

“I’m fine,” Corey says.

Chase points at him with his beer bottle. “Don’t you bullshit me.”

Corey sighs. “Okay, there’s something, but it’s not a big deal. It’s my problem. I don’t want to make it your problem.”

Chase frowns. “Can I help?” he asks, voice full of concern.

Corey laughs, almost hysterical. “I don’t think so.”

Chase tilts his beer up, takes a long swig. “Tell me anyway.”

“Chase. It’s not something you want to know, okay?” Corey says. He picks at the label on his bottle.

Chase leans in closer. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asks.

Corey can’t help but smile at Chase’s worry. “No. It’s just a me problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Chase sets his beer down and stands up. “Come on,” he says.

Corey’s confused, but he stands. “Where?”

“Just come on,” Chase says.

He takes Corey’s beer from his hands and sets it on the table, then pulls Corey along behind him. Corey goes. When they get to the doorway of Chase’s bedroom, he freezes.

“What are we doing in here?” he asks.

Chase tugs on his arm. “We’re going to lie down, and you’re going to tell me what’s wrong.”

Corey groans. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“It’s easier to tell someone something when you’re comfortable and not looking them in the eye,” Chase says.

Corey sighs. “Are you using your three-quarters of a sociology degree on me?”

“Absolutely,” Chase says. He tugs Corey over to the bed. “Now come on.”

“I’m telling you, Chase, if I tell you this, you’re going to wish you didn’t know,” Corey says.

Chase lies down. “Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. Come on, kid.”

Corey stands at the foot of the bed. He looks down at Chase. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I can’t take this back.”

“You’re worrying the hell out of me, so yeah, I’m sure,” Chase says. “Lie down.”

“Okay,” Corey says softly.

This is such a bad idea. He lies down next to Chase and looks up at the ceiling. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s a bad idea, Chase.”

“If you’re unhappy about something, I want to know about it,” Chase insists.

“We’re both going to live to regret this, but okay,” Corey says. He closes his eyes. “You have to promise you won’t hate me. However you feel, you can’t hate me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, kid,” Chase says. He reaches out and rests his hand on Corey’s arm. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to, but I could never hate you.”

“Remember that you promised, okay?" Chase asks.

“I will,” Chase assures him.

Corey takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. “I think I’m in love with you,” he blurts out.

Chase is quiet for a few seconds. Corey sneaks a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. He looks stunned.

“Oh, Corey,” Chase finally says. He sounds miserable.

Corey hates it. He stares at the ceiling, feels his heart cracking open. “I told you.”

He jumps when he feels Chase’s hand in his hair. “I don’t hate you. I’m sorry I made you tell me. I thought. I thought you wanted to come out to me but were afraid. I wanted to be there for you.”

Corey sighs. “Well, it probably would have been a better idea to lead with ‘I’m bi.’ But I wanted to tell you anyway. I was just scared.” His voice is hoarse.

Chase holds out his arm. “You wanna come here?”

Corey turns to look at him. “Really?”

“If you want to,” Chase says.

Corey’s weak where it counts, so he scoots closer and lets Chase wrap his arm around him. He rests his head on Chase’s shoulder.

“I know you think you love me, but you don’t,” Chase says quietly.

Corey squeezes his eyes shut. “I do,” he whispers.

“You’ll forget about it soon,” Chase says gently.

Corey sniffs hard, trying to keep the tears from coming. “It’s been almost a year and a half. I won’t.”

Chase just holds him for a while, then kisses the top of his head. “It’s not that —. I just can’t. I’m sorry, baby,” he says gently.

Corey can’t stand it. He lets out a sob, then another, then another. He feels his body shake with it. Chase rubs his back and doesn’t say anything. Corey feels like an idiot, but he can’t help it. “I’m sorry,” he manages to say.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Chase tells him.

After a while, Corey must drift off, because he wakes up to Chase saying his name. His head hurts, and he feels like death in general. When he opens his eyes, Chase is crouched down next to the bed.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says.

Corey coughs. “I feel like shit.”

Chase winces sympathetically. “I’m not surprised. Listen, it’s late. Do you want to stay here?”

“You don’t mind?” Corey asks, confused.

“Of course not,” Chase says.

He stands up. “I don’t have any extra linens or pillows for the guest bed, so. You can stay there, and I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

“No,” Corey says, sitting up quickly. “Ah, shit, that was a bad idea. Anyway, no, this is your bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Chase smiles just a little. “You’re too tall.”

With a groan, Corey flops face down on the bed. “I can’t put you out of your bed. I’ve already done enough for one night.”

Corey can feel the mattress dip when Chase sits down. “So,“ he says slowly, “I don’t mind sharing with you, but I understand if you don’t want to do that.”

Rolling onto his side to face Chase, Corey feels his stomach drop three feet straight down. “How do you not mind?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, kid,” Chase says. “And there’s nothing wrong with you. Now, I get it if it’s not something you want to do, considering the situation. But we can share, or I’m more than willing to take the couch. You’re not putting me out at all.”

Corey sighs. God, he wants to sleep next to Chase. So much. It’ll hurt, he knows, but he’s never been known for his decision making skills. “If you’re really okay with it, we can share.”

Chase pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll get you something to sleep in.”

A few seconds later, a pair of pajama pants land on the bed next to Corey.

“I’m going to go get ready for bed,” Chase says. “I’ll be right back.”

Corey nods. He’s lucky that Chase cares about him, anyway. This could have gone so much worse. Chase is still his friend. Chase still wants him around. Corey sits up, stretches. He might as well change while Chase is gone. He struggles out of his jeans, then pulls on Chase’s pajama pants. They’re too short. Chase comes back in just as Corey finishes changing. He’s wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants similar to the ones Corey has on. He looks good.

“I left a toothbrush on the counter for you in the bathroom,” Chase says.

“Thank you,” Corey says.

He means it. Chase is being so good to him. He makes his way to the bathroom and brushes his teeth without really thinking about it, uses the bathroom, washes his hands. When he gets back, Chase is already in bed, overhead light off.

“You sure this is okay? I’ve got no problem with the couch,” he says.

Corey climbs over him and gets under the covers. He leaves as much room between him and Chase as possible. “This is fine.”

“Hey,” Chase says. “I don’t want to make this any harder on you than it has to be, but if it helped, what we did earlier, I don’t mind.”

Corey blinks. Surely Chase isn’t offering to hold him. Corey’s still shocked he did it once. “You mean?” he asks.

Chase nods. “You can come here. If you want.”

He shouldn’t. He does.

Chase rests his hand on the back of Corey’s head. “Oh, Corey. I can’t. I wish. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Corey says. His voice cracks, but he doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed.

Chase reaches over and turns out the lamp. “Go to sleep, okay?”

Corey doesn’t think he’ll be able to, but he does, the rise and fall of Chase’s chest lulling him to sleep.

When Corey wakes up for a second time, it’s morning. The bed is empty. Corey’s not surprised, both because Chase gets up early and because he doubts Chase wants to face this first thing in the morning. He probably never wants to face it at all. Corey changes back into his jeans and leaves Chase’s pajamas folded on the bed. He checks his texts, but there are no messages from Chase. There’s no note anywhere Corey can see, so Chase must still be here. He wouldn’t just leave. At least, Corey hopes not.

After a few minutes, Corey works up the courage to go look for him. He doesn’t have to look very hard. Chase is in the kitchen making breakfast.

“Morning,” he says brightly when he sees Corey. “Do you feel any better? Your head, I mean?” he adds quickly.

Corey blinks at him. Apparently they’re acknowledging the elephant. “Yeah,” he says. “Thank you.”

“You want breakfast?” Chase asks.

Corey nods.

“Good,” Chase says. He gestures to the table with a spatula. “Eggs are almost done. Sit.”

“Okay,” Corey says.

He’s a little baffled by how normal Chase is acting, but he goes with it. He only has to wait a couple of minutes before Chase is bringing him a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee. They’re both the way he likes them. He bites his lip.

“Chase. Thank you,” he says.

Chase ruffles his hair. He leans down and hugs Corey, hard. Slowly, Corey hugs him back.

“I’m still here for you, Corey. You understand?” Chase asks.

“No,” Corey answers honestly, “But thank you.”

“Nothing’s changed, okay? You’ve still got me. Now eat your breakfast,” Chase instructs.

Corey does as Chase asks.

 

* * *

 

Corey keeps waiting for Chase to get weird about it, his dumb giant rookie-adjacent being in love with him, but he never does. Spring training passes, the season starts, and everything, excepting Corey’s broken heart, is fine. Chase watches Corey take BP, gives him advice, goes over tape with him. They don’t play together as much as they did last season, but the days that Forsythe starts, Chase watches, and he always has something to say to help Corey improve. Then, Forsythe breaks his big toe, and Corey feels like an absolute asshole about it, but he’s so happy to be playing with Chase every day.

Chase still eats meals with Corey, asks him over, hangs out with him in groups. He doesn’t pull away. Not at all.

Corey handles it as best he can. He wants Chase right next to him all the time, but it aches having him close.

They’re in a booth at a bar in San Diego after an 8-2 win over the Padres. Corey is sitting across from Chase, and they’re by themselves for five seconds, all the other guys at the bar or on the dance floor. Chase is wearing a white button down, open at the neck. His skin is so tan. Corey’s been drinking. He stares, imagines licking the sweat from the hollow of Chase’s throat.

“Corey,” Chase says softly.

Corey’s eyes snap up. Chase is looking at him, eyes soft. Shit. He’s been caught.

Chase sighs. “I’m sorry, Corey,” he says.

Corey bites his lip. “ _I’m_ sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” Chase says. “I don’t mind. I’m gonna go get us another round.”

He claps Corey on the shoulder as he gets up. Corey tries not to press into his hand.

From then on, Corey tries not to follow Chase around, tries not to stare, tries not to touch Chase too much or for too long. He fails more than he succeeds. Forsythe comes off the DL in late May, and it’s so fucking stupid, but Corey misses Chase. He’s at the rail watching the whole time, but Corey wants him closer. Also, he thinks Chase is better than Forsythe, but it’s not like Corey’s opinion is unbiased.

Then, they beat the Mets 12-0 in June. Corey gets three homers for the second time in his life. Joc, Kiké, and Cody get him very drunk. The whole night is kind of a blur. He’s not really sure how it happens, but one second Kiké’s feeding him shots, and the next thing he knows, he’s out on the sidewalk with Chase.

Chase gets his arm around Corey’s waist to help keep him steady. “You want to go back to your frat house or to my place?” he asks.

That’s not even a question. “Your place,” Corey says.

Chase nods. He gets them a car and bundles Corey into the backseat. He lets Corey lean against him the whole ride to his house. When Chase helps Corey out and leads him inside, Corey clings. He can’t stop himself. Chase stumbles a little under Corey’s weight in the front hall, and Corey grabs him by the waist.

“Woah there, handsy,” Chase says with a grin.

Corey looks down. He _is_ being handsy. He shouldn’t. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“I was just teasing, kid,” Chase says. “You know it doesn’t bother me. Let’s get you to the guest room, okay?”

“No,” Corey says quickly. “Not yet.”

Chase runs his fingers through Corey’s hair. “What’s wrong?”

Corey groans. “That feels nice. Ah, fuck, that was creepy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I told you,” Chase says.

He guides Corey to the living room and sits him down on the couch. “Why don’t you want to go to bed?”

“You’re not there,” Corey says.

He winces. He’ll probably regret that later.

Chase sighs. He wraps Corey up in a hug.

Corey lets Chase hold him tight. “I’m sorry. I just.”

Chase rubs his back. “I know, baby. I’m sorry,” he says into the crook of Corey’s neck.

Corey sags against Chase. “It hurts,” he whispers.

Chase is quiet for a long time, rubbing Corey’s back and touching his hair.  Finally, he moves back a little and looks Corey in the eye.

“Corey,” he says. “Maybe it would be better if I gave you space.”

Space is time without Chase. Space is wasting what he has. “No,” he says firmly. “That’s not what I want.”

He bites his lip. Maybe Chase wants space. Maybe this is too weird after all. “Not unless it’s what you want,” he says.

Chase shakes his head. “I told you. I don’t mind.”

He drags his fingers through the longest part of Corey’s hair. “You ready to go to bed now?” he asks.

Corey isn’t, but he knows he should. “I guess so,” he says.

He heads up to the guest room, but he can’t sleep for a long time.

 

* * *

 

“You want to stay awhile? Watch TV?” Chase asks.

Corey is stretched out on Chase’s hotel bed, iPad between them, Chase sitting on the far side of the bed. They’ve watched so much tape that Corey’s brain hurts.

“Yeah,” Corey says.

Like he’d say anything else. He puts the iPad on the bedside table while Chase turns on the TV and flips through the channels. Chase settles on some cop show. He lies down next to Corey, turns to look at him.

“You’ve been doing well lately,” Chase says.

Corey beams. “I’ve just been trying my best.”

Chase pokes Corey in the side. “It’s working.”

Corey grins at Chase, and Chase smiles back. Corey feels good, relaxed. He watches the show. Neither one of them have any idea what’s going on, but it’s entertaining enough. Corey inches closer to Chase.

“You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, kid,” Chase says. “Come here, if you want.”

Corey wants. He moves closer, and Chase wraps his arm around Corey, lets Corey press against his side.

Chase doesn’t say anything, just watches the show. Corey does too, but his mind keeps drifting to how good Chase feels. Suddenly, the two boys on the screen, one dark haired and one blond, start kissing. Corey freezes, whole body going still. Chase just keeps holding him.

“Is it weird that I’m a guy?” Corey asks quietly.

Chase looks down at Corey. “No,” he says, confused. “Why would it be?”

Corey blinks. “Are you. Are you not straight?”

Chase groans. “I’m an idiot. I’m bi, I thought you knew.”

Corey shakes his head. He feels so lost. “You didn’t say.”

“I tried to,” Chase says. “When you told me. It’s not like I’ve been acting like a straight guy about this.”

Corey thinks about it, looks down at their bodies so close together. Chase has a fair point.

“So. It’s not that I’m a guy,” Corey says slowly. “It’s just. It’s just me you don’t want.”

He feels so stupid. Chase just doesn’t like _him_. Something’s wrong with him, not good enough, not what Chase wants. He hides his face against Chase’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s not like that,” Chase insists. “There’s nothing wrong with you, nothing not to like. You’re great, Corey.”

Corey lifts his head up a little. “You don’t want me. It’s fine, Chase,” he says, trying to keep his voice even.

Chase sighs. “That’s not it, Corey.”

“Yeah, it is,” Corey says. “You don’t have to coddle me.”

“That’s _not_ it,” Chase insist. “Look. If we tried, it wouldn't work. It's not right between us. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” Corey mumbles.

Chase can’t make himself want Corey, can’t make Corey be someone he wants. If there’s nothing between them from Chase’s side, that’s just how it is, no matter how much Corey hates it.

“Well, I am,” Chase says. He gathers Corey close. “I’m so fucking sorry, Corey.”

Corey stays still and lets Chase hold him. It makes Corey feels better that Chase cares enough to let him down easy, that he doesn’t want Corey to be sad. Chase kisses the top of Corey’s head.

“ _Fuck_ , I’m sorry,” he says.

“You don’t have to be sorry all the time,” Corey says, head on Chase’s shoulder. “I want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy,” Chase says easily.

Corey swallows hard. Chase has been dealing with this for months now, Corey following him around, Corey staring at him, Corey touching him, and he’s been so damn _kind_. It’s not fair to him. Corey makes himself sit up and look Chase in the eye.

“You can be happy with someone else, Chase,” he says as firmly as he can.

Chase looks at Corey fondly, sadly, like he knows how much it took out of Corey to say that. “I _am_ happy,” he says.

Corey shakes his head. “You can’t be. I never leave you alone, even when I try to, and you should make me, you shouldn’t let me bother you so much, you shouldn’t be so nice to me —.”

“Corey,” Chase cuts in. He pulls Corey back down against him. “You’re not a bother. I care about you. And I’m happy, okay?”

Corey lays his head on Chase’s chest. “ _How_?” he asks.

“You just have to trust me,” Chase says. “I am.”

He rests his hand on the nape of Corey’s neck.

“You should tell me to back off,” Corey says.

“Corey. You _are not_ bothering me. You aren’t. Okay?” Chase asks.

Corey doesn’t understand at all, but Chase sounds sure. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Corey thinks about Chase all the time. He’s probably going to think about Chase all day, every day until he dies. Or until the zombie apocalypse, whichever comes first. In the meantime, there’s baseball. Chase is still helping him, and he’s still getting better. His two first loves are all twisted up in each other, and it hurts, but he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t grown accustomed to the almost sweet way it aches.

He’s sitting at a table in the clubhouse watching Joc lose at cards when Chase calls his name. He gets up and goes over to him, trying not to look too eager.

“What’s up?” he asks.

Chase is sitting, and Corey towers over him. Chase looks up, eyes sparkling.

“So, these nicknames for Players Weekend. I want you to pick one for me,” he says.

Corey furrows his brow. “I’m not even picking one for me.”

“More time to think about mine, then,” Chase says.

“Why?” Corey asks.

Chase shrugs. “I thought you might have fun with it.”

“You’ll go with whatever I pick?” Corey asks.

“Within reason,” Chase says.

Corey holds out his hand to shake. “Done.”

Chase takes it. His hand is warm against Corey’s.

A few days later over dinner at Chase’s, Corey looks up from his plate and says, “I think I’ve got it.”

“Got what?” Chase asks.

Corey rolls his eyes. “Your nickname. For your jersey.”

Chase sets down his fork and looks at Corey, giving him his full attention. “Lay it on me.”

“Silver Fox,” Corey says. He can’t quite meet Chase’s eye when he says it.

Chase groans. “Really?”

“Well,” Corey says with a shrug, “You are.”

Chase picks up his beer and kills what’s left of it. “Do you have a Plan B?”

Corey nods. He can feel his cheeks starting to pink up. Plan B is twice as embarrassing as Plan A. “Yeah. Daddy.”

Chase comes very close to spitting beer all over the table. “Jesus, kid.”

“Because you like. Baseball-raise all the young guys,” Corey says. He picks up his own beer and downs most of it. This is his third, he thinks.

Chase shakes his head, bemused. “Your options are Silver Fox and Daddy. God, Corey, people are going to wonder what kind of shit you’re into.” He freezes as soon as he realizes what he said. “Shit.”

Corey calmly takes a sip of his beer. He’s definitely feeling buzzed. “That’s not really your business, is it?” he says. He waits a beat, two, for Chase to open his mouth to apologize, then continues, “Unless you want to make it your business.”

Chase looks stricken. “I. Uh. It’s not that I don’t. Fuck.”

Corey dissolved into giggles. “The look on your face. I’m sorry, that was mean.”

Chase groans. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Yep,” Corey agrees.

He grabs his empty plate and silverware and gets up to put his dishes in the dishwasher, grabbing Chase’s as he goes. He fumbles with putting the plates in the racks a little, but he gets the job done. When he turns back around, Chase is watching him.

“It’s getting late,” Chase says. “I think you better stay here.”

Corey nods. He probably shouldn’t drive. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you.”

Chase stands up, stretches. Corey stares, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his arms move.

“Let me make sure the guest room is set up,” Chase says.

“Wait,” Corey blurts out.

Chase raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, kid?”

Corey takes a deep breath. This is a bad idea. He knows it’s a bad idea, and he’s going to do it anyway.

“Uh. Can I stay with you?” Corey asks.

Chase is quiet for a second. “You sure you want to?”

Corey nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Chase sighs. “We should stop doing shit like this, but we’re not going to. Yeah, you can stay with me.”

Corey grins so big his cheeks hurt.

When Players Weekend comes around, Chase wears Silver Fox on the back of his jersey. Literally everyone wants to talk about it, about how Corey came up with it. Chase tries to play it off, but Corey can almost swear he sees Chase blush.

 

* * *

 

They lose 6-2 in Philly. Corey is tired. They’ve still got a week and a half of the regular season left, and hopefully a lot more beyond that, but Corey hasn’t been hitting as well as he’d like for weeks, and his elbow keeps acting up. He hasn’t been playing with Chase as much as he’d like either. They got to play together tonight, at least. Corey knows he should get used to playing without him, but, well. Fuck that.

He should be getting ready. He’s taken his shower and needs to put his clothes on, but he’s just sitting there in his underwear. Chase is getting dressed at his stall next to Corey. Corey tries to keeps his eyes down, but he can’t help himself. He looks at Chase pulling on his suit pants, working his button down up over his shoulders, doing up the buttons. He always wears a white shirt with no undershirt. Corey can see the definition of his body when he moves. He lets his eyes linger on Chase’s hands as they buckle his belt. Chase is so beautiful that it makes Corey’s chest hurt.

Chase catches him. Corey immediately looks down at the floor.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have,” Corey says.

Chase sits down next to him and rests his hand on Corey’s shoulder.

“Kid. You’re all torn up inside,” he says.

Corey shrugs. Chase is right, but Corey’s not about to say it out loud.

Chase squeezes Corey’s shoulder. “Corey. You could be happy with someone else,” Chase says gently. “I want you to be happy.”

Corey’s head snaps up. “I’m _fine_.”

Chase looks around to make sure no one is paying attention. Most of the guys are still in the shower or are changing with their backs to the room. Chase carefully sets his hand on the back of Corey’s neck. “I wish I could give you what you need. I can’t. But I wish I could.”

Corey sighs. “I know. Thank you.”

Chase shakes his head. “You should get dressed, kid.”

“Yeah,” Corey says.

He stands up and reaches for his pants.

“Corey,” Chase says.

Corey looks over at him. Chase scrubs his hand over his face. “I really do wish.”

Corey turns his back so Chase can’t see his face. It hurts him to see Chase hurt, and he knows it shows.

“I know,” Corey says. “It is what it is.”

Chase doesn’t respond. He just claps Corey on the shoulder and walks away.

 

* * *

 

A slide that feels totally normally takes him out of the NLDS after Game 3. He misses the NLCS entirely. Watching and not being able to play is usually frustrating and exhausting, but in Game 5, Kiké, Chris, and Justin play ridiculously, stupidly good baseball, and everyone else follows suit. Corey picks Kiké up off his feet and screams in his face, hugs Justin and Chris, grabs Joc’s ass and in general acts like a fool even though he had nothing to do with the win.

Chase pulls Corey off into a hallway and hugs him, hard. They’re both covered in sweat and beer, and they stick together a little.

“You guys really fucking did it,” Corey says.

He’s awestruck, really. He wants to say he knew it would happen, but now that it has, he can’t believe it. They’re going to the World Series.

Chase presses his hand to the back of Corey’s head, drags his fingers through Corey’s gross hair. “We did. I know you were upset about not being able to play, but now you will,” he says with a little smile.

“Fuck,” Corey says, almost reverently.

He’s going to play in the World Series.

Chase finally steps away.

“How’s your back?” he asks.

Corey leans against the wall, laughing.

“Definitely feeling no pain right now,” he says.

Chase rolls his eyes.

“I know you haven’t said anything because you don’t want to be a distraction, but I want to know. How are you, really?” he asks.

Corey crosses his arms over his chest.

“Better, I think. They say I can play, so,” he says with a shrug.

Chase leans against the wall next to Corey, close enough their shoulders touch.

“You can tell me, if you hurt. I won’t think you’re whining,” he says.

Corey bites his lip. He hates to complain to Chase, doesn’t want Chase to think he’s a baby or weak or any of a dozen other things.

“It’s not your job to deal with my bullshit,” he says.

Chase gently knocks his arm against Corey’s. “I think that’s exactly my job, come on.”

“I’m fine,” Corey says. “Really, I’m fine.”

Chase turns toward Corey and pulls him into another hug.

“I’m glad. You’re going to be great, kid, I know it,” he says.

Corey clings to Chase, and Chase lets him. Corey bends forward and leans his head on Chase’s shoulder. They stand like that for a while, leaning against each other in the hallway in the visitor’s clubhouse, soaked with alcohol and overcome at their good fortune.

“Chase?” Corey says, standing back up. “Can you tell me what it’s like?”

“What? The World Series?” Chase asks.

Corey nods. “Yeah.”

“It’s hard to describe. Like nothing else. A lot depends on how it goes. The best thing you’ve ever felt or. Not that at all. You’ll see, though. You’re going to play, and you’re going to do great, and then you’ll know,” Chase says.

“That’s a lot of words all at once for you,” Corey says.

Chase laughs. “It was a big question, and I didn’t even answer it.”

Corey grins. “I can’t wait to find out. Fuck, I still can’t believe you guys did it.”

Chase frowns. “You’re still part of the team, you know. Even though you couldn’t play, you’re part of the team.”

“I didn’t do anything, though,” Corey says with a shrug.

“Hey,” Chase says. “It’s your win too.”

“If you say so,” Corey says.

Chase looks Corey in the eye. “I do say so.”

Chase’s hand feels warm on Corey’s back even through his soaked shirt. Corey just smiles down at him. “Okay,” he says.

Suddenly, Chase surges up on his tiptoes and kisses Corey on the cheek. His lips are warm. He grins at Corey when he pulls back. Corey presses his hand to his cheek, shocked.

“What was that for?” he asks.

Chase shrugs, still smiling. “Because I wanted to. Come on, we better get back.”

Corey lets Chase lead him back toward the crowd. He keeps his hand held against his cheek until they see people they know.

 

* * *

 

It takes seven games, but they lose. They can’t buy a hit, and the Astros celebrate at Dodger Stadium while the home team chokes back their tears long enough to talk to the media.

Corey keeps it together through the interviews, through talking to his parents and Justin, but when Kyle puts his hands on Corey’s shoulders and says “It’s okay,” Corey winds up sobbing into his t-shirt. Their mom comes up behind him and wraps her arms around Corey’s waist. They let him cry until he doesn’t need to anymore. He feels better.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Corey says to Kyle.

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Remi and Crue say I have to be nice to their uncle, so I guess I won’t.”

Corey wipes his eyes. “Tell them I love them.”

“I will. Get cleaned up and go home, Corey. You need to sleep,” Kyle says.

Their parents agree, so they all send Corey off with a round of hugs and a promise from Justin to get him mind-numbingly drunk once he gets back home for the offseason.

Corey walks to his stall on autopilot. He showered before he talked to the media, but he needs to get his stuff together. Chase is at his stall, waiting. He watches Corey stuff things into his bag.

“You okay, kid?” he asks.

“Not really,” Corey says honestly. “Are you?”

Chase shakes his head. “Not yet. I will be. Do you want to come back with me and not talk about it?”

“Yeah,” Corey says.

He always wants to go back with Chase. He pulls his bag onto his shoulder. “Ready?”

Chase grabs his bag. “Let’s go.”

They don’t talk the whole way to Chase’s house. Every so often, Chase reaches out to pat Corey’s shoulder or push his hair out of his eyes. When the get there, Chase has to shake Corey to get him out of his daze. This was it. This was probably Chase’s last shot at a ring, Corey’s last chance to win with him, and it slipped through their fingers.

“You want beer or liquor?” Chase asks when they get inside.

Corey drops his bag next to the couch and sits down heavily. “Liquor. Please.”

Chase nods. He disappears into the kitchen and comes back a few minutes later with two glasses of dark liquid. He sits down next to Corey and hands one to him. Corey takes a bigger sip than he should. The whiskey burns his throat. Chase squeezes his knee. They drink quietly until their glasses are empty.

“So,” Corey says. “This could be it. My last game with you.”

Chase sets his glass on the coffee table, takes Corey’s and sets it down too. He tugs Corey against his side. “We don’t know that.”

“But it could be,” Corey says.

“Yeah, and I _could_ sprout wings,” Chase says. “We just don’t know.”

Corey laughs despite himself. “You always try to make me feel better,” he says.

“That’s my job,” Chase says. “I can’t make that decision right now, but I promise I’ll tell you when I know.”

Corey wrinkles his nose. “Like last year?”

Chase laughs. “Better than last year. I won’t threaten you at all. Promise.”

“You’re the worst,” Corey lies.

“I am,” Chase agrees. “I try not to be.”

Corey sits up a little and looks at Chase’s face. He looks tired, wistful, sad. Corey wants to fix it. He doubts he can, but he wants to try. Slowly, he leans in to kiss Chase’s cheek, but he misjudges the distance. He kisses Chase square on the corner of his mouth.

“Shit,” he swears. Chase stares at him, shocked. “I didn’t mean—,” he starts.

He doesn’t finish his sentence because Chase grabs him by the collar and tugs him down into a kiss. A real kiss. Chase is kissing him, one hand fisted in Corey’s collar and one hand in his hair. Corey carefully brings his hand to the nape of Chase’s neck and kisses back. Chase is kissing him hard, with purpose, with intent. Corey thinks he might die.

“Chase,” he groans, and just like that, the spell is broken.

Chase breaks away, panting. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, what have I done?”

Corey brings his hand up to his mouth. His lips are tingling. “What the hell was that?” he asks.

He’s never been more confused.

“I’m sorry,” Chase says. “God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that to you, you’re already upset, it wasn’t fair.”

Corey blinks. “Why did you?”

Chase buries his face in his hands. “Because I couldn’t stop myself.”

“I don’t. I don’t understand,” Corey says.

Why would Chase kiss him?

“Was it like. A pity thing?” he asks.

His stomach turns at the thought.

“No!” Chase says. “No. I wanted to.”

Corey crosses his arms over his chest. “But you don’t want me.”

“I’ve told you, Corey, that’s not it,” Chase says. “That’s never been it.”

Corey looks at Chase. He looks so sad.

“So, what? You want me but not enough to be with me?” Corey asks.

He looks down at his feet. He feels like he’s lost everything all at once.

“Oh, Corey, _no_ ,” Chase says. He reaches out and wraps his hand around Corey’s forearm. “Look at me?”

It’s hard, but Corey does. Chase’s face is open, honest, like it always is with Corey.

“It’s never been about not wanting you. I tried to tell you that. I _do_ want you. I just can’t have you,” Chase says.

Corey feels like he might shatter into pieces. His chest hurts, real, physical pain.

“What do you mean, you want me? How do you feel about me, Chase? Spell it out, because obviously I can’t take a hint,” Corey says.

Chase slides his hand down Corey’s forearm to take his hand in his. Corey lets him. “I feel about you the way you feel about me.”

Corey inhales sharply. His whole world is upside down. “You love me?” he asks, dumbfounded.

Chase nods slowly.

“Then why?” Corey asks.

He doesn’t understand, not at all.

“We can’t,” Chase says. “We’re teammates, and you’re so young, and you do everything I tell you. Corey, it would be wrong.”

Corey blinks, tears starting to form. “But I love you,” he says plaintively.

“Oh, baby,” Chase says.

He wraps his arms around Corey. “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I’ll always be here for you. Do you understand?”

Corey lets himself melt against Chase. “Can you say it? That you love me? Please?”

Chase kisses the top of Corey’s head. “I can’t, baby. If I say those words, if you hear them, there’s no going back. And I can’t have you. We can’t do this. Fuck, I wish I could give you what you need, but I can’t.”

Corey feels tears starting to roll down his cheeks. “But you want me? You love me? It’s not because I’m not good enough?”

Chase’s arms tighten around Corey. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

Corey lays his head on Chase’s shoulder. “What do we do now?”

Chase sighs. “I guess we go to bed. Nothing can change. I’m sorry I did that, especially tonight. It’s not fair to you.”

Corey tries to wrap his head around everything. They just lost the World Series. He may never play with Chase again. Chase may never play again at all. Chase loves him, but he won’t say so. He kissed him because he couldn’t stop himself.

“How long?” Corey asks.

“Too long,” Chase says. “A couple of months after I met you.”

“So this whole time, everything that hurt me. Did it hurt you too?”

Chase shrugs. “My own fault.”

“Why did you let me make it harder for you?” Corey asks.

“Because,” Chase says, “You said it made it easier on you.”

“Do you want me to back off?” Corey asks.

“No,” Chase says. “I like having you around.”

“Are you sure?” Corey asks.

“I’m sure,” Chase says.

Corey swallows around the lump in his throat. He sits up and wipes the tears from his face. “Can I sleep in your bed? Please?”

Chase sighs. “That we do need to back up on.”

“Why?” Corey asks.

“Because. Now that everything’s out in the open, if you stay with me, you’ll want to…” Chase trails off.

“ _I’ll_ want to?” Corey asks.

He’s wanted to all along. He knows how to keep his hands to himself.

Chase rolls his eyes. “Fine, _we’ll_ want to.”

“If I want to and you want to, why shouldn’t we?”

Chase sighs. “It’s not right, Corey, you know that.”

Corey squares his shoulders. “You keep saying that, but I don’t know it. I’m a consenting adult. If you want me too, I don’t see why we shouldn’t.”

“I _do_ want you,” Chase says, “But we can’t. I can’t.”

Corey sighs. “Fine. I’ll stay in the guest room. If you decide I’m old enough to know what I want, you know where to find me.”

“Corey—.”

“I know. You’re trying to do what’s best for me. I’d just like a little more say in what that is.”

Corey leans in and kisses Chase’s cheek, then pats his chest before standing up and turning to walk away.

Chase grabs his wrist. “Wait.”

“What?” Corey asks.

“You’re right. I still can’t, but the things we were doing already, if that’s what you want, okay,” Chase says.

Corey sits back down. “If you can’t handle me that close, I understand, but say so. Don’t make my decisions for me. Not anymore.”

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” Chase says.

Corey sighs. “I know. And if you can’t do something, fine. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to do something just because you feel guilty. But from now on, you have to tell me.”

“I’ll try,” Chase says. “I’m told I can’t express myself. Corey, you can still find somebody else. Somebody better.”

Corey shakes his head. “That’s not what I want. What about you? Is that what you want?”

“No,” Chase says.

His hand is still wrapped around Corey’s wrist.

“Okay,” Corey says. “I feel like shit, and I want you to hold me. You can say no if you need to, but. Can I stay with you?”

“If that’s what you want,” Chase says.

Corey smiles. “It is.”

 

* * *

 

The part of the offseason that sucks is rehabbing his elbow. That part that’s great is playing with his niece and nephew.

Remi keeps squirming in his lap, which wouldn’t be a problem, except she has her little baseball bat in her hand, and she keeps coming very close to catching him in the neck.

“Your daughter’s trying to hurt me,” he says to Kyle as he shifts her so she’s facing away from him.

Kyle’s on the floor, building blocks with Crue and Justin. He’s mostly watching while Justin builds towers for Crue to knock down.

“So take the bat away,” Kyle says.

“I tried,” Corey says. “She cried, and I felt bad.”

Kyle laughs. “You’re the softest touch, I swear.”

Corey leans down and kisses the top of Remi’s head. “I think I’ve got it now.”

Justin places a block on a tower that must be two feet high. “You ready?” he asks Crue.

Crue nods. “I’m a T-Rex! Raaaaawr!” he says as he knocks the tower down.

Remi squeals delightedly. It’s adorable, until she whacks Corey in the thigh with her bat.

“Aaaaahhhh,” Corey groans wordlessly, trying not to swear. “Fine, I don’t got it, can you please take the bat away?”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “Give Daddy the bat, baby,” he says.

He reaches out to take it. Remi huffs and tries to pull it back. She’s gearing up to cry.

“Uncle Corey’s going to play airplane with you. That’ll be fun, right?” Kyle says.

She makes happy sounds and lets Kyle take the bat.

“Cor, Cor!” she says, turning toward him and holding out her hands.

“What’s airplane again?” Corey asks.

Kyle hands Crue the red block he’s been looking for. “You just hold her up so she can try and stretch flat. Make vroom vroom noises. Don’t drop her.”

“I won’t drop her,” Corey protests.

He grabs her sides under her arms and holds her out in front of him so she’s level with his head. “Like this?” he asks Kyle.

Kyle looks over. “Yeah, move her around a little.”

Corey does, making her “fly.” “Vroom, vroom, you’re a plane-baby,” he says.

She reaches out and grabs his face.

“Ah,” he says.

Justin looks up and laughs. “Babies are a full contact sport.”

Crue drops a block on him to prove it. “Thank you, Crue,” Justin says.

“I’m gonna find Gramma,” Crue announces.

“Clean up your blocks,” Kyle tells him.

Crue scrambles to scoop them into his toy basket. Justin helps.

Corey bounces Remi a little in his hands. “Do you like being an airplane? Is it fun, baby?”

She pats his chin.

“Bye, Uncle Corey,” Crue says as he darts out of the room, blocks put away.

“Bye, buddy,” Corey says.

Kyle sits next to Corey on the couch.

“You can put her in your lap again. She’s starting to get sleepy.”

Corey sits her back down, and she leans against his chest. “You’re a good baby,” he tells her.

His phone buzzes, so he digs it out of his pocket. It’s a text from Chase, a response to the picture of him and Remi that Corey had sent. He opens it, turning the phone away from Kyle.

“You look good. She’s adorable.”

He smiles down at his phone. From Chase, that’s a lot.

Justin flops down on Corey’s other side. “I know that face. Are you texting a girl?”

“No,” Corey says.

He taps out a message to Chase, “Thank you. She’s the best baby,” then sticks his phone back in his pocket because he thinks Justin can guess his passcode, and he is definitely not above stealing Corey’s phone.

Kyle pokes Corey in the shoulder. “He’s right, though, that’s a crush face. Are you talking to a boy?”

Corey looks down at Remi, takes her little hand in his. “Technically, yes, but. It’s not like that.”

“I call bullshit,” Justin says. “Your face says it absolutely is Like That.”

Corey groans. “It’s not like that between us, okay?”

Kyle looks over at Justin. They exchange some sort of look that spells nothing good for Corey.

“You didn’t say it’s not like that for him,” Kyle says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Corey says. He cuddles Remi closer, like can she save him from this conversation somehow. She’s mostly asleep now, a warm little weight against him.

“The fuck do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Justin asks. Kyle glares at him. “She’s asleep, it’s fine.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Corey says.

“Let’s back up. You like a guy, and he likes you, but nothing’s going to happen?” Kyle asks.

Corey shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Why not?” Kyle asks. “Is he married?”

“Jesus, Kyle, no, he’s not married,” Corey says. “What do you take me for?”

“An idiot, usually,” Kyle says. “So why is nothing going to happen, then?”

“Because he said so,” Corey says.

“And it’s great that you’re respecting boundaries and all,” Justin says, “But why does he say so?”

Corey sighs. “It’s not just my secret to tell.”

Kyle looks over at Justin. “Adam?” he asks.

“Oh, shiiiit, Adam,” Justin says.

“Which Adam? What are you two talking about?” Corey asks.

“That kid that you played Little League with that you had a crush on who’s becoming a priest, is it him?” Kyle asks.

“What? No. He’s straight, I think. I haven’t seen him in like three years. What’s wrong with you two?” Corey asks.

“Well, if you don’t tell us, we’ll have to keep guessing,” Justin says.

Kyle nods. “Could take a while. Better give me Remi, I’ll go put her down.”

“No,” Corey says, curling his arm around her. “Don’t take her yet.”

“Is my baby your security blanket?” Kyle asks.

Corey shrugs. “Maybe.”

“That’s kind of adorable, but also try not to squeeze her too hard. If you won’t tell us, it has to be somebody we know,” Kyle says.

“Is it a teammate? Or a former teammate?” Justin asks.

“Stop being so damn nosy,” Corey says.

“It’s a teammate,” Kyle says.

Corey groans. “If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone. Not Julie, not Mom and Dad, literally not another living soul.”

“Okay,” Justin says.

Kyle nods. “Just the three of us and Remi, I swear.”

“I’m serious,” Corey says. “No one can ever know.”

“We promise,” Justin says. “Now tell us before we have to go down the roster, because that would take forever.”

Corey sighs. “I hate you guys.”

“We know. Now tell us. Is it Joc?” Kyle asks.

Corey makes a face. “Ew, no. It is definitely not Joc.”

“Is it Cody?” Justin asks.

“I can do better than Cody, come on,” Corey says.

“And yet you’re sitting on Mom’s couch hiding behind my kid,” Kyle says.

Corey scowls. “I can still not tell you.”

“Seriously, we want to know what’s going on with you,” Justin says.

Corey squeezes Remi’s little hand, for courage. He’s aware he’s a total joke. “It’s Chase.”

“What,” Kyle says.

“WHAT,” Justin repeats.

“Shhh, you’ll wake the baby,” Corey says.

“Chase Utley. You have a weird non-thing with Chase Utley?” Kyle asks.

Corey nods.

“Okay, skipping past that whole deal, why does he say nothing’s going to happen?” Justin asks.

“Because we’re teammates. Because I’m young. Because he says it’s wrong,” Corey says.

“He’s right, you’re too fucking young for him,” Kyle says.

“Watch your profanity,” Justin tells him.

Kyle reaches behind Corey to smack him.

“Jesus Christ, Corey, Chase Utley,” Kyle says.

Corey leans back against the couch. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t let anything happen. So I’m just gonna sit on Mom’s couch and hide behind your kid forever, I guess.”

“You’re 23, Corey. You can find a whole new bad decision to make. Lots of them,” Justin says.

“Besides, you’ve only got so many years of her letting you,” Kyle points out.

“I don’t want anybody else. Just him,” Corey says.

Kyle groans. “For the love of God, Corey, you have a crush on your mentor. I knew a guy at UNC who had a crush on an assistant coach. You’ll get over it.”

Corey shrugs. “It’s been over two years. I doubt it.”

Justin looks at Corey. “Are you serious about this? Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Corey says. “I’m really fucking sure.”

“Well,” Justin says. “He won’t always be your teammate. And you won’t always be this young.”

“Shut the fuck up, Justin, don’t encourage him,” Kyle says.

Corey shrugs. “I’ve thought about that. But I don’t know if he’ll ever change his mind.”

“I think this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, including that time you ate the moldy bread in science class on a dare in the 9th grade, but as your brother, it is my duty to get you drunk,” Kyle says. “Gimme my kid.”

Corey frowns. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. I have to go put her down, then make sure Mom and Julie are okay with us getting trashed at 4:00 in the afternoon. I’ll tell them you got dumped. Okay?” Kyle holds his hands out for Remi.

Corey picks her up and gives her a kiss, then hands her to Kyle. “Okay.”

Kyle turns to Justin. “I’m going to put her down and talk to Mom and Julie. You go to the liquor store.”

Justin nods. “Sounds like a plan. You’re going to be fine, Corey.”

“Doubt it,” Corey says.

Justin messes up his hair. “Jesus, you’re a sad sack. You need tequila.”

“No tequila,” Kyle says. “Tequila makes him puke. Corey, give me your phone right now.”

Corey scrunches up his face. “I don’t trust you that much. You could text him and tell him I hate him or something.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s not a bad idea. Fine, give it to Mom, but you don’t want it while you’re drunk.”

Corey thinks about it, thinks about how Chase will feel if Corey digs everything up again. “I hate it when you’re right. Fine. I’ll give it to Mom.”

Remi starts to stir, making little noises against Kyle’s shoulder. “Do you want to put her down while I talk to Mom and Julie?” Kyle asks.

Corey reaches for her. “Yes. Gimme.”

“You’re going to have to find another coping mechanism, you know,” Kyle says as he hands her over.

Corey kisses Remi’s forehead. “Yeah, but I’m not going to do it today.”

“You’re a mess,” Kyle says.

Corey nods and carries Remi off to the nursery. “Your uncle’s an idiot, baby,” he whispers against her hair. She snuggles into his shirt.

 

* * *

 

Chase keeps to his word and texts Corey when he signs his contract. The next week, spring training starts.

Corey gets dragged out to dinner the night before. He doesn’t want to go, wants to spend time with Chase for the first time in months, but Joc won’t take no for an answer.

Corey doesn’t get to sit near Chase, and that annoys him more than it should. He looks down the table at him all night. The only bright spot is that sometimes Chase is looking back.

When things are starting to wind down, Corey texts Chase. “Take me home with you. Please.” Chase catches his eye and nods.

When everyone is standing outside talking, Chase claps Corey on the shoulder. “Want a ride, kid?” he asks.

Corey nods, and just like that, Joc and Cody stop hassling him to come get drunk with them. There’s a few minutes of hugs and back slaps, and then Corey’s free. He sneaks glances at Chase the whole ride home. Chase’s mouth quirks up at the corners, but he doesn’t say anything.

As soon as they get inside with the door shut behind them, Corey pulls Chase into a hug.

“I missed you,” he says.

Chase hugs him back, leaning his head against Corey’s shoulder just the slightest bit. Corey lingers, not letting go, and Chase allows it.

“I missed you too,” Chase says softly. “How’s the elbow?’

“Fine for now,” Corey says.

He really doesn’t want to think about that right now, about the strengthening exercises and the nagging pain and the constant fear that his ligament will rupture.

“So,” Corey says slowly. “My brothers know. Please don’t be mad. They won’t tell anyone.”

Chase pulls back to look up at Corey.

“You trust them?” he asks.

Corey nods. “I wouldn’t have told them if I didn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Chase peers searchingly at Corey with those quiet gray eyes.

“Okay,” Chase says. “If you trust them, okay.”

“You’re not mad?” Corey asks, relieved.

Chase reaches out and touches Corey’s jaw.

“I’m not mad. I trust you.”

Corey presses into Chase’s hand, chasing his touch, his affection, his attention.

“Chase,” he breathes out.

Chase drags his thumb along Corey’s jaw, then draws his hand back.

“I’m sorry, Corey. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

Corey licks his lips. The only part that hurts is when Chase takes his hand away. He wants so badly to tell Chase that he loves him.

“If I say how I feel, will it make you feel bad?” he asks.

“Probably,” Chase says. “Go ahead.”

Corey frowns. “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

Chase shrugs, looks down at the floor.

“I deserve everything I get. If you need to say something, don’t hold it in,” Chase says.

Corey rests his hand on Chase’s forearm.

“All I want is to make you happy. I don’t want you to hurt.”

Chase smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re too good of a person to waste your time on me, Corey.”

“No,” Corey says fiercely.

He takes a step forward and wraps his arms around Chase. Chase leans into him.

“It’s not fair of me to do this to you,” Chase says. “I’m being selfish. I won’t let myself have you. That doesn’t mean you should wait around. You should find someone else. You should be happy, Corey.”

Corey kisses the top of Chase’s head. He’s never done that before. It feels intimate, vulnerable. “You didn’t ask me to wait. I know you’re not going to change your mind just because I hang around long enough. You said no, and I’m trying to respect that. But you can’t make me stop feeling the way I do. I don’t want anybody else. You’ve never made me pretend, and I appreciate that. So don’t make me start now, okay?”

Chase moves back enough to look Corey in the eye. “Okay. But you’re not beholden to me just because you know now. You can date. You can hook up. You can do whatever you want. You don’t owe me anything.”

Corey bites his lip. He takes a deep breath. “You’re not beholden to me either,” he says.

It’s maybe the hardest thing he’s ever done.

“No,” Chase says firmly. “I won’t do that. I won’t fuck around while your heart breaks.”

“But you’d have me do that to you?” Corey asks.

Chase shakes his head. “It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”

Corey sighs. He hates that Chase won’t let them have this, but he loves Chase, and his integrity is part of that. Even if it’s stupid. He walks over to the couch, sits down, takes off his shoes.

“Will you come lie down with me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Chase says.

He kicks off his shoes and puts them by the back door, then makes his way over to Corey. Corey lies down, then hold out his arm to Chase. Chase freezes.

“Oh. You meant…” he trails off.

“I’m too big for the other way,” Corey says. “Do you not want to?”

He’s never held Chase before. Maybe that’s not something Chase wants.

Chase stands there looking at Corey for a second, then slowly climbs onto the couch and lies down on Corey’s chest. Corey spreads his legs to let Chase lie between them, then he wraps his arms around Chase’s back. Chase lays his head on Corey’s shoulder. He feels so good in Corey’s arms. Corey closes his eyes. Chase’s hair smells like his shampoo. Corey likes it. He rubs up and down Chase’s back, feeling his warmth through his clothes. Chase tangles his fingers in Corey’s shirt.

“Chase,” Corey says.

Chase hums in response.

“I’m glad you’re back. I know I’m gonna have to learn to do without you, but. I’m glad it’s not yet.”

“I’m glad I’m back too. I don’t think you need me as much as you think you do, though,” Chase says.

Corey slides his hand up Chase’s back to run through his hair. “I need you exactly as much as I think I do. I want you more than that.”

“Corey,” Chase says. There’s a hint of protest in his voice.

“Just lie here with me, okay?” Corey says.

Chase sighs. “Alright.”

Corey kisses the top of Chase’s head again. It feels good to be the one giving affection.

Chase’s fingers tighten around Corey’s shirt.

“Is this okay?” Corey asks.

“Yeah,” Chase says quietly.

Corey strokes Chase’s hair. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t like. If this isn’t something you want, that’s fine.”

“I like it,” Chase says. His voice is muffled against Corey’s shoulder.

Corey rests his hand on the back of Chase’s neck, and Chase shivers.

“Chase?” Corey asks.

“Sorry,” Chase mumbles.

Corey brings his hand back up to drag his fingers through Chase’s hair. “I don’t mind. I want you to feel good.”

It’s a heady sensation, knowing Chase likes being held by him, touched by him. Corey looks down. Chase is hiding his face against Corey’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Corey asks. “Chase? Baby?”

Chase’s whole body tenses up.

“Shit, I’m sorry, that was too far, you don’t want that,” Corey rambles. He feels like an idiot.

Chase raises his head up. He looks devastated. Corey’s heart clenches.

“I want it. I want it so goddamn much, Corey, but I can’t have it,” Chase says.

Corey rubs Chase’s back, aiming for soothing.

“Do you want to get up?” he asks.

“I should,” Chase says.

Corey reaches out and drags his thumb over Chase’s cheekbone. “We can do whatever you want.”

Chase swallows hard. Corey watches his throat work. After a few seconds, Chase brings his head back down to rest on Corey’s shoulder. Corey wraps his arms around Chase’s back, and they lie there like that for a few minutes. After awhile, Chase shifts, and Corey brings his hand back up to touch Chase’s hair. He scratches gently at the back of Chase’s neck.

“Stop,” Chase says urgently.

Corey does.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Chase lifts his head. He looks ashamed. “Felt too good,” he says.

“It’s okay,” Corey says.

Chase shakes his head. “It’s not.”

He moves suddenly, standing up. Corey feels cold.

Chase scrubs his hand over his face. “I’m going to take a shower and try to get myself together. I know this isn’t what you wanted when you came over, but can you sleep in the guest room?”

Corey nods. He’d rather sleep next to Chase, but Chase is upset and needs space. He pressed too far tonight, and he feels like a jackass.

“I don’t mind. Stop me next time, please. Don’t let me take too much,” he says.

Chase sighs. “It’s not your fault, Corey. You deserve everything. I’ll come say goodnight to you later.”

He leans down and kisses Corey on the forehead, then turns to go upstairs. Corey stays on the couch looking at the wall for a long time.

 

* * *

 

Chase gets hit by his 200th career pitch in a 13-4 win against the Padres. Corey watches Chase get dinged in the bicep and take his base, and, whatever it says about him, he has to suppress a shiver. They all try not to show it hurts, but Chase doesn’t react at all. It’s like he doesn’t even feel it, except for the times when it seems like he almost likes it. Chase told a reporter he didn’t dislike it once, and Corey’s thought about that a lot more than he should.

Chase keeps the ball. He’s excited about it, and Corey finds it hilarious. Chase shrugs when Corey laughs. “I worked hard for this one,” he says.

When they get back to the hotel, Corey follows Chase to his room. He sits down on Chase’s bed.

“So,” Corey says. “200th. You know, you never even flinch. I don’t know how you do that.”

Chase grins. “Practice.”

“Where would you say hurts the most?” Corey asks.

Chase leans against the dresser, thinks about it. “The ribs. Or any joint, that sucks.”

Corey bites his lip. “Do you really not dislike it?”

Chase looks down. “We probably shouldn’t talk about it.”

“Why?” Corey asks.

Chase keeps looking down. Realization dawns on Corey.

“You like it? Oh, fuck _me_ , you like it,” he says incredulously.

Chase shrugs. “I mean. Yeah.”

Corey flops back against the bed. “I’m gonna have to live with knowing that now. God, Chase, I don’t know why that’s so. Fuck. I shouldn’t say that.”

Chase sits down next to Corey. “Better than you thinking I’m a freak.”

Corey furrows his brow. “Have people thought that before?”

“Yeah,” Chase says.

Corey sits up and sets his hand on Chase’s knee. “I don’t think you’re a freak. I _really_ don’t think you’re a freak.”

“That’s good to know,” Chase says quietly.

“Chase?” Corey asks. “Can I see the bruise?”

Chase is quiet for a few seconds. Then he starts to unbutton his shirt. Corey watches him undo one button at a time, revealing more and more pale skin. When he’s finished, he slides the shirt down his arms and drops it on the bed. He turns his arm toward Corey. The mark is mostly red right now, but Corey knows it’ll bloom into purple and yellow soon enough.

Corey reaches his hand out. “Can I?” he asks.

Chase nods. Corey brushes his fingers over the bruise. He stares at Chase, so much skin on display. He’s gorgeous. Corey rests his hand on top of the mark.

“So, I won’t, but if I was to press, would you like it?” Corey asks.

Chase inhales sharply. “Yeah. So please don’t.”

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” Corey says.

“I know,” Chase says. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just. I want you to know I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it,” Corey says.

Chase lies back against the bed. “Damn it, kid, now _I_ have to live with _that_.”

Corey laughs. “I guess we’re even, then.”

“I guess so,” Chase says.

He looks down at Corey’s hand, still on his arm. “You want to get me a shirt out of my bag?” he asks.

“Sure,” Corey says. “First, just.”

He stands up and leans over Chase, carefully pressing a kiss to his bruise. Chase grabs Corey’s wrist.

“There’s nothing I want more than for you to keep doing that, but we _can’t_ ,” Chase says.

Corey straightens up. “I’m sorry if that was too far. I just wanted you to know that I really am okay with it.”

Chase squeezes his wrist. “It’s okay.” He pauses. “Thank you.”

Corey smiles down at him. “Let me get you your shirt.”

 

* * *

 

Corey’s elbow gets worse during a series in San Francisco. It hurts, more than usual, and worse than that is the numbness in his hand that comes and goes. They send him home on Monday to get an MRI while the team goes on to Phoenix, but he already knows. This is it. His UCL is finally telling him to go fuck himself. The doctor confirms it, and they schedule Tommy John surgery for Friday. If he’s lucky, he’ll be ready for spring training.

As soon as he gets home, he collapses on his couch and calls Chase.

“How bad is it?” Chase asks. “Fuck, I wish I could’ve been there with you.”

Corey sighs. “That’s not your fault, Chase. It’s bad. Surgery on Friday.”

“Oh, Corey,” Chase says.

Corey shrugs even though Chase can’t see him. “At least I can stop waiting for it to rupture.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be okay,” Chase says.

“Fine, I hate it,” Corey says. “Shit, you know I can’t stand to not play.”

“I know, kid. I’m sorry,” Chase says. He pauses. “I wish I could be there with you.”

Corey curls in on himself. That’s right. Chase won’t be home until Sunday.

“You can’t help it. I’ll be okay,” Corey says.

“Do you want me to come see you when I get home on Sunday?” Chase asks.

“Please,” Corey says.

Chase has to go then. They hang up, and Corey curls up under a blanket feeling sorry for himself. He really wishes Chase was with him, could hold him and make him feel safe.

He spends the rest of the week freaking out on the inside and insisting he’s fine. When Friday finally comes, the surgery goes well. The next day passes in a haze. He’s being careful with the painkillers, but he’s still pretty out of it.

When Chase gets there on Sunday, Corey’s asleep. He crawls out of bed and stumbles to the door to let Chase in.

He watches Chase take him in, his stupid splint and his foggy eyes. Chase carefully hugs Corey on his good side.

“Look at you, kid,” Chase says, voice sad. “You should be in bed.”

“Come with me?” Corey asks.

“Okay,” Chase agrees.

Corey wanders to his room, Chase following. He lies down carefully, and Chase climbs into bed after him, leaving space between them. Corey has to be on his back because his arm is splinted at a stupid fucking angle, so he can’t lie on Chase’s chest like he wants.

“Can you come closer? Is that okay?” Corey asks.

“You sure?” Chase asks.

“You’re on my good side, it’s fine,” Corey says.

He reaches for Chase, and Chase obliges, pressing himself against Corey’s left side.

“I should have been here for you,” Chase says.

Corey frowns. “You couldn’t.”

“I know,” Chase says with a sigh. “This is what I mean, Corey. I can’t be here for you. I can’t take care of you. I’m fucking useless when you need me. You deserve someone who can make you a priority. Somebody who can be there when you need them. You had fucking surgery, and I wasn’t here.”

Corey wraps his good arm around Chase. “Don’t say that. I don’t blame you, okay? I missed you, but I know you wanted to be here, and that’s good enough.”

Chase curls into Corey’s side. “I was so fucking worried about you, Corey. I felt like shit all week. You deserve to be the most important thing in someone’s life, and I can’t give you that.”

“I don’t want somebody else. I want _you_ ,” Corey insists, voice going thin.

Chase sighs. “I’m upsetting you. You should be resting.”

Corey cuddles closer to Chase. “Can you stay with me while I take a nap? Please?”

Chase goes up on his elbow and kisses Corey’s temple. “Yeah, kid. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

* * *

 

Rehab sucks. It really, really does. It’s great when he finally gets to take the splint off, but he still has to wear his brace. He can use his elbow joint, at least. Chase shows up with breakfast after six days on the road, and Corey hugs him, although not near as tightly as he’d like because his brace is clunky and in the way.

“Look what I can do,” he says.

Chase wraps his arms around Corey’s waist. “I’m glad.”

“You feel good,” Corey says.

Chase sighs, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds Corey close. Corey clings to him, standing there in his kitchen for a few long moments.

“Thank you for bringing me breakfast,” Corey says.

Chase rubs Corey’s back. “Do you want to eat?”

“Yeah,” Corey says.

“Go sit,” Chase tells him. “I’ll get silverware and stuff.”

Chase knows where everything is, so Corey sits down at the table to wait. He opens the takeout boxes, seeing what Chase brought.

“So, I’m going to guess that the giant waffle, bacon and hashbrowns are mine, and the egg white omelet, fruit, and whole wheat toast is yours?” Corey asks teasingly.

Chase sets silverware and paper towels down on the table and goes to the fridge to find juice. “You can’t tell anyone I brought you that. I have a reputation to uphold.”

Corey laughs. “That’s the most disgustingly healthy breakfast I’ve ever seen. Why are you like this?”

Chase sits down next to Corey, pushing a glass of orange juice toward him. “Because I’m old.”

“You’re not old,” Corey says, frowning. “Don’t say that.”

Chase rolls his eyes. “You can’t cheat time, kid.”

Corey nudges Chase with his toe under the table. “Stop or I’ll start saying positive things about your body.”

“Jesus, Corey,” Chase groans.

Corey grins at him. “Don’t think I won’t.”

“Eat your breakfast,” Chase says.

Chase takes a bite of his omelet. Corey opens up the little container of syrup and pours it over his waffle. He grips the knife in his left hand and tries to cut it. He makes a little progress, but it’s slow going.

“Can I help you?” Chase asks.

Core bites his lip. “Do you mind?”

Chase scoots his chair closer to Corey. “Of course I don’t mind.”

Corey hands Chase his knife and fork. Chase carefully cuts Corey’s waffle, getting all the pieces uniform size.

“You like butter on your waffle,” Chase says. “Why didn’t you use it?”

Corey shrugs. “It was an extra step.”

Chase picks up the little container of butter and peels the lid off, then slowly puts a little dab of butter on each piece of Corey’s waffle.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks.

Corey smiles. Chase just took at least three minutes getting Corey’s waffle ready for him.

“I think I’m good. Thank you,” he says.

Chase hands Corey his silverware back and picks up his own fork. He eats a piece of fruit. He doesn’t move his chair back.

Corey eats his waffle. He does like it better with butter. He picks up a piece of bacon and eats it in two bites. He holds the other out to Chase.

Chase leans over and takes a bite, his lips brushing Corey’s hand. “Don’t tell anyone,” he says.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he says, carefully keeping his voice even.

He doesn’t know why, but he _liked_ that, liked feeding Chase, liked the brush of Chase’s mouth against his skin. He finishes the bacon, then turns back to his waffle and takes a few bites in rapid succession, reaches for his juice.

“It’s not going anywhere,” Chase says, amused.

Corey shrugs. “It’s good.”

Chase spears a piece of pineapple on his fork and offers it to Corey. Corey bites his lip, then leans in and eats the fruit off of Chase’s fork. When he looks up, Chase’s eyes are on him. Slowly, Chase reaches out and drags his thumb across Corey’s lip, holding it up to show Corey the fruit juice Chase wiped away. Chase licks it off his thumb, and Corey groans.

“Chase,” he breathes out.

“ _Shit,_ ” Chase says. “I wasn’t. I didn’t think. Are you okay?”

Corey nods. He doesn’t want Chase to move away. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Chase looks down at his food, staring a hole in what’s left of his omelet. He eats his toast, drinks his juice. Corey eats the last few bites of his waffle, then turns to his hashbrowns. He tries to stab a forkful, but he drops them back into the container. He tries again, drops them again.

“Damn it,” he says.

Chase looks over. “Do you want me to help?”

Corey hesitates. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Chase says.

He reaches out for Corey’s fork, and Corey gives it to him. Chase moves even closer, right next to Corey, their thighs touching. He scoops up a forkful of hashbrowns and holds them out to Corey. Corey ducks his head and takes them. They’re good, not soggy.

“Thank you,” he says.

Chase just holds out another forkful. Corey leans down and eats them, more slowly this time. He closes his eyes. He’s not sure why, but Chase feeding him like this is almost more than he can handle. He lets Chase give him the rest of the hashbrowns, one bite at a time. He feels shivery inside. Breakfast has no right to make him feel like this.

Corey’s food is gone, and Chase only has a few pieces of fruit left. He eats his melon, then holds out the last grape to Corey. Corey leans down, seeing what Chase will do. Chase holds the grape up to Corey’s mouth, and Corey takes it. He catches Chase’s fingers with his tongue, tastes skin and salt. He sits back up and swallows harder than is strictly necessary.

Chase stares at him for a few seconds, then wipes his hands. He stands up and clears the table, throwing the boxes in the trash and putting the silverware and glasses in the dishwasher.

“Here,” he says, holding out a damp paper towel to Corey. “For the syrup.”

Core cleans his hands, and Chase throws the paper towel away. He sits down next to Corey.

“You want to get dressed and let me take you in for your PT?” he asks.

Corey nods. “Chase,” he says.

Chase looks at him, waits.

“Thank you. For taking care of me. I mean it,” he says

Chase smiles. “It’s nothing.”

Corey stands, brushing his fingers across Chase’s shoulder. “It’s not nothing. I needed you, and you were here.”

Chase inhales sharply. He looks up at Corey, eyes soft. “Do you need help getting ready?”

Corey’s not really sure. “I’ll call you if I need you, and you’ll come. Right?”

“Right,” Chase says.

Corey doesn’t know what to say. His heart feels full. He hugs Chase, arm around his shoulders from behind. Chase back leans into, and Corey smiles.

 

* * *

 

At the end of May, Chase sprains his thumb and goes on the DL. He hates not playing as much as Corey does. Corey feels bad for him, but he’s also glad that when the team goes on a six day roadie, Chase stays home.

“Can you do that with a sprained thumb?” Corey asks.

He’s sitting on the couch, and Chase is next to him, folding Corey’s laundry on the coffee table.

“I’m doing it, aren’t I?” Chase asks.

Corey throws a chip at him, and Chase laughs.

“It’s fine, kid, the splint keeps me from fucking it up,” Chase says. “Besides, it’s harder for you to do it, and you need clean clothes.”

Corey smiles. “Thank you.”

Chase drops a folded t-shirt in Corey’s lap. “I like doing things for you, Corey. You don’t have to act like I’m doing you a big favor.”

Corey puts the t-shirt in the laundry basket. “I appreciate you. You don’t have to do any of this.”

“I know. I want to,” Chase says.

He hands Corey a stack of basketball shorts, and Corey puts them in the basket. Corey reaches out and takes Chase’s hand.

“You’ve been helping me a lot lately. Bringing me food and doing my laundry and keeping me company. Thank you, I mean it,” Corey says.

Chase smiles just a little, corners of his mouth turning up. “You need me, and I’m able to be here for once, so I am.”

“You always want to be here. That’s the important part,” Corey says.

He drags his fingers back and forth across Chase’s knuckles.

“You really mean that, don’t you?” Chase asks.

“Of course I do,” Corey says. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Chase squeezes Corey’s hand. “I’ve only got a few pairs of sweats left to fold. Then I’ll see if I can make us something to eat, okay?”

Corey smiles. “Okay. Thank you.”

Chase leans down and kisses the top of Corey’s head. “You’re welcome.”

 

* * *

 

Chase gets cleared to play near the end of June. Corey’s happy for him, but when the team is gone for four days, home for three, and gone for ten, Corey misses him. He misses playing, he misses Chase, and he’s about sick of his damn elbow. The only highlight is when they tell him his joint is strong enough that he only needs to wear his brace when he hurts or is doing something strenuous.

When Chase shows up around 8:00 after a day game in Atlanta at the end the ten day trip, Corey isn’t surprised. What does surprise is him is that fact that Chase has brought him a pizza.

“What’s wrong?” Corey asks as he lets Chase in.

“What? Why?” Chase asks.

Corey blinks at him. “You brought me a pizza. A _pizza_ , Chase. Did my dog die? Am I adopted?”

Chase rolls his eyes. “Stop it. You want it or not?”

“Of course I want it,” Corey says, grabbing the box. “Thank you.”

“I’ll get napkins,” Chase says.

Corey carries the pizza into his living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Chase follows him a few minutes later with paper towels, a soda for Corey, and water for himself.

“You still don’t have real napkins,” Chase says as he puts everything on the coffee table.

“I don’t need them, paper towels work fine,” Corey says. “Thank you, again.”

Chase smiles and opens the box. “Go ahead.”

Corey takes out a piece. “Sausage with green bell peppers. You remembered.”

“I listen,” Chase says with a shrug.

Corey grins into his pizza as he eats. He finishes his first piece, picks up another.

“Are you just gonna watch me?” he asks Chase.

Chase takes a drink of water. “Maybe.”

“You are not,” Corey says.

He picks up a piece of pizza and hands it to Chase. “Eat. Sustenance.”

Chase laughs. “Fine, kid, I’ll eat the pizza.”

“Good. Do you want to watch TV?” Corey asks.

Chase takes a few bites of his slice, shakes his head. “I need to talk to you.”

“I knew it!” Corey says. “I knew this was an ulterior motive pizza.”

Chase finishes his piece of pizza, eats his crust. Corey thinks he’s stalling. “It’s not. I just knew you might not like this, so I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Corey picks up his soda and takes a drink. “What am I not going to like?”

“I’m retiring,” Chase says. He doesn’t meet Corey’s eyes.

Corey sets down his soda. “You’re what?”

“Look, Corey, I know this isn’t news you want to hear, but it’s time,” Chase says.

“This is your last season?” Corey asks.

Chase nods.

“This is your last season,” Corey repeats. “And I’m missing it.”

Chase turns toward Corey. “I’m sorry, kid. I don’t like that part, not at all, but I don’t think I have another one left in me. Not one I can be proud of.”

Corey reaches for a paper towel and wipes his fingers. “I hate this. I hate it, and you should clean your hands because I need you to hold me about it.”

Chase does. He sits with his back against the arm of the couch, facing Corey. “Come here.”

Corey leans against him, head against Chase’s chest, their legs tangled together. Chase wraps his arms around him.

“Elbow okay?” Chase asks.

“Fine,” Corey mumbles.

They stay there like that for a few minutes, not talking. Corey listens to Chase’s heartbeat. Then Corey breaks the silence. “Chase?”

“Yeah, kid?” Chase asks.

“If you retire, you won’t be my teammate,” Corey points out.

“I won’t,” Chase agrees slowly.

“So, if I’m not your teammate. What then?” Corey asks.

Chase groans. “I don’t know, Corey.”

Corey sits up and looks at Chase. “My season’s over. I know you’ll say that’s not good enough, but when you retire, we really won’t be teammates. And I’m not a kid anymore.”

“You’re still so young,” Chase says. “And I could get a job as a coach or in the front office. I could have _more_ influence over you.”

“But if we start in between, when you’re not my teammate and don’t have another job lined up, that would be okay,” Corey insists.

“I don’t know. I just don’t,” Chase says.

“Chase, please,” Corey begs.

“I wish I could tell you yes, but I can’t,” Chase says. He leans in and kisses Corey on the cheek. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Corey moves back, and Chase stands up. He grabs the pizza box and the paper towels and heads to the kitchen.

Corey flops against the couch, careful of his elbow. He sighs. Chase comes back, hands in his pockets.

“Corey, look, if we make a plan now, we’re starting something now. It would still be wrong. I can’t do that, okay?” he says.

Corey looks up at him. “Chase, you keep saying you can’t have me, but I’m already yours.”

Chase lets out a wounded noise. “Corey,” he breathes out.

Corey stands up and wraps his arms around Chase. Chase brings his hands up to Corey’s shoulders, lets Corey hold him tight.

“If you can’t tell me yes, that’s fine. I’m not going anywhere, okay? The way I feel won’t change. Just. Don’t say never. Please,” Corey says.

Chase slides his fingers up into Corey’s hair, rests his forehead against Corey’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything.

Two days later, Corey sits with the other guys at Chase’s press conference. They all try to smile. Corey can’t.

 

* * *

 

Corey fucked up his hip around the same time his elbow gave up on him, but they put off taking care of it until the rehab on his elbow had progressed. He goes to New York in August to finally have the surgery to repair his labrum. Chase is back on the DL, but he’s not hurt bad, so he’s traveling with the team.

Chase calls Corey the night before his surgery.

“Don’t beat yourself up for not being here,” Corey says as soon as he answers the phone.

“Too late,” Chase answers.

Corey sighs. “I’m fine. I’m not being left alone to fend for myself. Of course I wish you were here, but I’m not mad that you aren’t, okay?”

“I’m gonna be mad at me every time I can’t be there for you,” Chase says.

“Chase,” Corey says gently. “You still don’t owe me anything.”

Chase doesn’t answer right away. Corey can hear him breathe. “Maybe I do.”

Corey bites his lip. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Chase says.

Corey smiles. “You already take care of me. Stop worrying about it. Please.”

“Fine,” Chase agrees reluctantly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you,” he says.

Chase sighs. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I want to,” Corey says.

They talk for a little while longer, and Corey falls asleep unworried about tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Kersh is dressed like a power-walking grandma from Boca Raton, but his ping pong fundraiser is really cool. Corey likes doing charity stuff, even if he doesn’t like publicity stuff most of the time. It’s not quite as cool on crutches, though. Corey hobbles around taking pictures with people who want to meet him and awkwardly introducing himself to people way more famous than he is. Mila Kunis tells him he’s cute. That part is kind of surreal.

Corey can’t play ping-pong, obviously, which sucks. The guys always get really into it. Chase plays some, but he begs off after awhile and wanders over to Corey. He’s not that great at ping-pong anyway, even though he’d never admit it.

Chase taps Corey on the shoulder. “You should be sitting down.”

“I’m fine,” Corey says with a shrug.

Chase leans in close. It just looks like Chase is trying to be heard in the crowd. He rests his hand on Corey’s shoulder, like he’s trying to bring Corey down to hear him. “You’ve got that pain wrinkle on your forehead. Sit down, kid. Please?”

Corey bites his lip. “Okay.”

“Let’s find you a chair,” Chase says.

He leads Corey with a hand on his elbow. Nobody looks at them twice. Just a guy helping out his hurt teammate. Chase finds Corey a stool to sit on, and he hangs close, hand on Corey’s shoulder. His hand is warm through Corey’s sweater.

“How are you feeling?” Chase asks.

Corey looks up at him. “It’s really not bad. A little tired. I should be off the crutches in a couple of weeks.”

Chase leans into Corey, nudges his good arm. “I’m glad.”

Corey smiles. Chase is wearing a blue, chambray-ish button down, and the color looks great on him. He looks hot, relaxed and confident, hair just a little out of place.

“What?” Chase asks.

“You look good,” Corey tells him. “Even more than usual.”

Chase rolls his eyes. “Stop.”

“It’s true,” Corey insists.

Chase raises his eyebrow, and Corey smiles up at him.

“Thank you, then,” Chase says.

“You’re welcome,” Corey replies.

Corey knocks into Chase with his good elbow. Chase nudges him back. Corey bumps into him again, Chase gets him back, and they go back and forth like that until they both dissolve into laughter.

“You’re such a dork,” Chase teases.

Corey grins. “I’m okay with that.”

“You want something to drink?” Chase asks.

“Yeah,” Corey says, starting to get up.

Chase presses down on his shoulder. “Nope, stay, I’ve got it.”

“I can walk,” Corey says grumpily.

“I know you can,” Chase says, “But you don’t need to right now. Just wait a second, okay?”

“Fine,” Corey gives in.

“Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

Chase walks off into the crowd. Corey watches him go. There are so many people all around, so many conversations going on, so many damn ping-pong games happening. It’s loud, hectic. It seemed more calm when Chase was next to him. Corey watches the game happening closest to him, but he’s not really paying attention.

“Hey,” Chase says, coming up behind him.

Corey’s face lights up. “Hey.”

Chase opens a bottle of water and hands it to Corey.

Corey rolls his eyes. “I can open a bottle of water.”

“I know. I did it for you,” Chase says.

“You’re always fussing over me.” Corey shakes his head.

“Everybody needs a hobby,” Chase tells him.

Corey laughs. “If I’m gonna be your hobby, I could think of more fun ways.”

“Corey,” Chase groans.

“Oops?” Corey says innocently.

Chase makes a face, calls bullshit without saying anything.

“Hey. Thank you,” Corey says. “For looking out for me.”

Chase smiles. “You’re welcome. Now drink your water.”

Corey does.

 

* * *

 

Corey goes off his crutches in September. Not long after, Chase comes back from his DL stint. Corey watches Chase play his last home game. He doesn’t cry, at least not in public. He does wrap Chase up in an excessively long hug, but everybody knows how attached he is to Chase. They don’t make the postseason. It stings, watching Chase’s last chance pass him by.

Corey is sitting on Chase’s front step when Chase gets back from the last game of the season, a day game in San Francisco.

Chase smiles tiredly. “Hey. Sorry it took longer than I thought. Have you been waiting long?”

“For you? Years. On this step? About ten minutes,” Corey says with a grin.

Chase rolls his eyes and reaches out to run his hand over the top of Corey’s head. “You’re hilarious. Come on, let’s go inside.”

Corey takes Chase’s hand, letting Chase help him to his feet. Chase turns toward the door. He fumbles with his keyring, looking for the right one.

“I have too many damn keys and not enough light out here,” Chase says.

Laughing, Corey stands behind Chase, puts his hands on Chase’s hips.

“Chase?” he asks. “Am I still waiting?”

Chase sighs, hangs his head. “I don’t know, Corey. I don’t.”

After a few seconds, Chase finds the right key and unlocks the door.

“Wait,” Corey says.

He braces his left arm against the door, hand next to Chase’s head, right hand still on Chase’s hip. “Are you willing to talk about it?”

Chase is quiet. He leans back into Corey. Eventually, he nods. Corey smiles and ducks down to press a kiss to the side of Chase’s neck. “Then we’ll get there.”

“God, Corey,” Chase groans. “Let’s go in the house, alright?”

Corey immediately steps back. “I’m sorry. Was that too much? That was too much. Shit.”

Chase opens the door. He turns back, looking up at Corey, then reaches out and tugs at Corey’s shirt. “It’s okay. Just. Get in here.”

Corey lets Chase pull him inside. He follows Chase into the living room and sits down next to him on the couch. “Now what?” he asks.

“Now,” Chase says, “We talk.”

“I’m not your teammate anymore,” Corey says.

Chase bites his lip. “You’re not. That’s true. That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s not,” Corey says. “I love you, and I think you love me. There’s nothing in our way but you.”

Chase sighs. He leans into Corey’s side just the tiniest bit. “Have you thought about this, kid? Really thought about? We can’t get married. We can’t have children. We’ll have to keep up appearances forever.”

Corey slowly, carefully wraps his arm around Chase’s shoulder. “I have thought about it. So much. If we can’t get married, that’s okay. I think maybe we could, though, because California has confidential marriage licenses. Kids, well. I’d like kids, but if we can’t figure out a way, that’ll be alright too. I can live with it. Look, I don’t want to be the first out player, or the second, and probably not the third. You know how I feel about the spotlight. But that doesn’t mean we can’t _ever_ come out. Maybe someday we could. Until then, I’d have you.”

Chase looks up at Corey. “But what if we can’t?”

“Would you tell your family? Could I tell mine?” Corey asks.

Chase is still for a little while, thinking. “Yeah.”

“Could we tell the guys we trust?” Corey asks.

“If you wanted to, yeah,” Chase says.

“Then that’s all I need,” Corey tells him. “That and you.”

Chase sighs. “You’d be a widower, Corey. I’d leave you.”

“Chase, come on. Anybody could die at any time. I love you. I love you so fucking much. Do you love me?” Corey asks.

Chase nods.

“Then let me. Let me love you,” Corey pleads.

Chase leans forward, props his elbows on his knees and rests his head in his hands. “I just. I need to think,” he says.

Corey rubs Chase’s back. “If you don’t want me, or if you don’t want me around, I’ll go. You can tell me no, Chase.”

“I don’t want to tell you no,” Chase whispers.

“So tell me yes, or maybe, or later. Just, tell me something,” Corey says. “Please.”

Chase sits up. Slowly, he reaches out and cups Corey’s cheek in his palm. “I just want to do what’s best for you.”

Corey turns his head to kiss Chase’s palm. “You _are_ what’s best for me.”

“Are you sure?” Chase asks.

Corey groans. “I’ve been sure. You’re it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” Chase says. His voice is soft, almost tender. He looks up at Corey, face so open, then takes Corey’s face in his hands. “Okay.”

Corey grins as wide as he can. “Really?”

“Really,” Chase says.

He strokes Corey’s cheekbones with his thumbs. Corey shivers.

“Kiss me. God, Chase, I’ve been waiting, kiss me, please,” Corey says.

He wraps his hand around Chase’s wrist. Chase smiles, and it reaches his eyes. He’s so close that Corey can count his laugh lines. Corey loves every one. Slowly, too damn slowly, Chase pulls Corey down to meet him. He kisses Corey with years of pent-up need behind it. Corey moans. He brings his hand up to the back of Chase’s neck. He kisses Chase hard, desperate for it. He’s waited _years_ , but now he’s allowed, allowed to kiss and touch and love.

“Come here,” he breathes out against Chase’s jaw.

Chase goes up on his knees. “Can you take my weight?” he asks.

“Yeah, on my right leg,” Corey says.

He wraps around his arms around Chase, tugging him into his lap. Chase straddles Corey’s right thigh and loops his arms around Corey’s neck, looking him in the eye.

“You’re beautiful,” he says reverently.

Corey smiles. “So are you.”

He leans in to kiss Chase’s neck, but Chase pulls back.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says.

Corey looks at him, brow furrowed. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Chase says with a grin. “I just needed to tell you that I love you.”

Corey laughs. He can feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes, happy tears. “No going back, right?”

“Not unless you want to,” Chase says.

Corey pulls Chase in for another kiss. “I don’t. Fuck, I love you, Chase.”

Chase presses his face to the juncture of Corey’s neck and shoulder. “Me too,” he says quietly.

Corey runs his fingers through Chase’s hair. “It feels so good to say that and make you happy instead of sad.”

Chase kisses Corey’s throat. “You make me so happy.”

“Hey,” Corey says.

He rubs Chase’s back, revels at the feeling of Chase in his arms. He can feel Chase’s breath against his neck. Chase kisses him again, then sits up.

“What, baby?” he asks.

Corey grins. “You wanna go to bed?”

“We can wait,” Chase says. “We don’t have to, right away. I can take you out first. Whatever you want.”

“We’ve _been_ waiting,” Corey says. “If you want to, I want to.”

“Okay,” Chase says, smiling. "If that's what you want."

He stands up and holds his hand out to Corey, helps him up and gives him a kiss on the cheek. They make their way to Chase’s bedroom, stopping every so often to kiss in the hall. Chase backs Corey up to the bed, gently pushing him down to sit at the foot. He stands between Corey’s legs. He kisses Corey, and it’s soft and tender and raw all at once, everything Corey’s wanted.

“What can your hip handle?” Chase asks.

Corey sighs. “Not as much as I’d like.”

Chase laughs. He kisses Corey’s forehead, drags his fingers through his hair. He plucks at Corey’s shirt. “Can I take this off?”

Corey raises his arms, letting Chase pull his shirt up and off.

“ _Oh_ ,” Chase sighs. “Look at you, Corey.”

He reaches out and puts his hands on Corey’s shoulders, gliding down to touch him everywhere, his arms and chest and stomach and around to his back. Corey groans and arches into Chase’s hands.

“You too,” Corey says.

Chase unbuttons his shirt as quickly as he can, smiling when Corey stares. Chase is gorgeous, and Corey’s finally allowed to look. He reaches out to drag his fingertips down Chase’s stomach when Chase finally drops his shirt to the floor. Corey sets his hands on Chase’s hips, moving up and down his sides, then back to touch the bumps of his spine.

“Pants?” Corey asks.

Chase laughs. “Yeah, pants too,” he says. “You want to take them off or do you want me to?”

“You do it,” Corey says. “Please?”

Chase nods. He takes off Corey’s shoes and socks first, then unbuckles Corey’s belt. His fingers on Corey’s stomach make his muscles jump. He unfastens Corey’s jeans and carefully works them down past his hips and off his long legs, pulling his boxers with them.

“You go on forever, kid,” he says.

Corey grins and leans forward, dropping a kiss on Chase’s shoulder. “Now yours?” he asks.

Chase kicks off his shoes, then steps in close enough for Corey to undo his buckle. The metal is cold against Corey’s skin. He undoes the button and zipper, and Chase steps back to shove them down. He takes his underwear off too, dropping them on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

Corey trails his eyes up and down Chase’s body. He’s perfect, all of him, and Corey wants to touch. He reaches out for Chase. “Come here?”

Chase takes Corey’s hand in his and kisses his fingers. “So, your hip. How about you lie on your back?”

Corey nods and stretches out on the bed, lying against the pillows. “What do you want?” he asks.

Chase climbs onto the bed after him. He kneels between Corey’s legs. “Can I suck you?” he asks.

Corey groans. “Jesus, yeah, if that’s what you want. Can I touch you first?”

“You can touch me anywhere you want,” Chase says.

Corey presses his hand to Chase’s chest, dragging it down over his stomach to wrap around his cock. He strokes Chase slow.

“You feel good,” he says.

Chase shudders, and Corey drags his fingers through Chase’s hair, grateful for his long arms. He thumbs the head of Chase’s cock. A gratifying shiver rolls down his spine when Chase hisses. Chase rocks his hips up into Corey’s hand.

“Wait,” Chase says. “You first. Then me. Okay?”

“If you want,” Corey says.

Chase gently guides Corey back against the pillows. “Let me make you feel good. It’s about time I did.”

“Hey, no,” Corey says. “You’re a stubborn pain in the ass, but I love that about you, so let’s just. Let’s be together now, okay?”

Chase presses a kiss to Corey’s hip bone. “Okay,” he says.

He takes Corey in his mouth, hand around what he can’t reach. Corey tries so, so hard to be still. He slides his fingers into Chase’s hair, stroking and petting, other hand on Chase’s shoulders.

“Feels so good,” Corey says, voice tight.

Chase pulls off. He works Corey with his hand, drops kisses on his thighs. “You can pull my hair,” he says.

Corey bites his lip. “Do you, uh. Do you want me to move my hips? I don’t know how the whole pain thing works, but. I want you to like this.”

Chase smiles. He looks so happy that Corey feels dizzy with it. “Yeah, a little bit. Thank you. We’ll ease into that part, okay?”

Corey nods. “Okay. But I want you to tell me what you like. Please.”

“I will,” Chase promises.

He goes back down, teasing up and down Corey’s shaft, then kissing the head before taking him in. Corey pulls his hair, gently, and Chase moans around him.

“Oh, God,” Corey sighs. “I’m gonna move a little, okay?”

Chase squeezes his thigh reassuringly, so Corey rolls his hips. Chase takes it, moans around Corey, so Corey does it again, and again. It feels so good. “I’m close, Chase,” he says.

Chase just sucks harder. Corey pulls his hair, hips stuttering at the way Chase reacts. He looks down at Chase, eyes closed and mouth red. He comes. Chase swallows it all. Corey reaches for Chase, pulling him up for a kiss. Chase licks into Corey’s mouth, and Corey groans at the taste of himself on Chase’s tongue, as in awe of Chase as ever. “I love you,” he says.

Chase kisses his jaw. “I love you too, baby.”

Corey smiles, so full of joy. “What can I do for you? I want to make you feel good.”

Chase lies down against Corey’s side. “Can you just kiss me?”

Corey furrows his brow. “Are you sure?”

Chase nods. “I just want you close. That’s enough.”

He leans in for a kiss, and Corey opens up for him, groaning against Chase’s mouth. He wraps Chase up in his arms, holding him close. He can feel Chase’s knuckles bump against his stomach while Chase strokes his own cock. Chase sighs when Corey scratches down his back.

“That feels nice, baby,” he says against Corey’s jaw.

Corey tangles his fingers with Chase’s on his cock, letting Chase work himself with their joined hands. Corey’s breath catches in his chest at the sight. “Let me?” he asks.

“You don’t have to,” Chase says. "This is plenty."

“Please?” Corey asks.

Chase draws his hand back, resting it on Corey’s stomach instead. Corey works his hand up and down Chase’s cock.

“Your skin’s so soft,” he says quietly.

Chase presses his forehead to Corey’s shoulder, huffs out a laugh against his skin. “I guess so. Your hand feels so good. You have great hands. They’re so fucking big.”

Corey twists his wrist, and Chase bucks his hips.

“Fuck,” Chase moans.

“I want to see you come,” Corey says. “I bet you look so hot when you come.”

Chase tucks his face against Corey’s neck. “I’m close. You’re doing so good, Corey. Just keep going.”

“I’ll get you there,” Corey says.

He kisses the top of Chase’s head, tangles his other hand with Chase’s on his stomach.

“When my hip is better, I’m gonna put you on your back and kneel over you, gonna touch you everywhere I’ve wanted to see for so for long. Can’t wait to make you feel so good, Chase,” Corey says.

Chase kisses Corey's shoulder, grinds into his hand. “Yeah, baby, I want you to. You can have whatever you want.”

“Kiss me?” Corey asks.

Chase lifts his head, meeting Corey in a kiss. Corey cradles his head, tugging lightly at Chase’s hair. He bites Chase’s lip, and Chase moans, coming hard.

“God, Corey,” he breathes out.

Corey kisses him again. “I was right. You’re gorgeous.”

Chase laughs against his lips. “Yeah, well, I guess you’re always right. Gotta listen to you more often.”

Corey beams at him.

“I better get up and get a washcloth, clean us up,” Chase says.

Corey looks down at the mess they’ve made. “I could do it.”

“Nope,” Chase says. “Let me get it. I take care of you, right?”

Corey smiles. “I guess you do. Thank you.”

Chase kisses him, light and sweet. “You’re welcome. I love you. Stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you too,” Corey says as Chase stands up.

“You’re not, are you?” Chase says with a grin.

Corey tugs Chase down for one more kiss. “Not if you’re not.”

Chase pushes Corey’s hair back from his forehead, then heads to the bathroom. Corey watches Chase’s back until he disappears around the corner.

He’s half-asleep when Chase comes back. He has tissues in one hand, and a bottle of gatorade and a granola bar in the other.

“You’re clean,” Corey mumbles.

Chase smiles. “I am. Let me clean you up, okay?”

Corey nods, and Chase carefully cleans Corey’s hand and side. He crumples up the tissues and throws them in the wastepaper basket, then crawls back into bed next to Corey.

“Here,” he says, opening the granola bar wrapper. “Eat.”

Corey smiles. He leans down and takes a bite out of the granola bar instead of taking it from Chase’s hand.

“Thank you,” he says.

Chase smiles back and runs his fingers through Corey’s hair. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
